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each strand of hair
a story waiting to be told
some tales recent
some tales old
and through her eyes
she can tell your truth from your lies…
just listen to the wind
as it blows across the sand
you think you’re in charge
but she’s always in command
awake while you sleep
two steps ahead of the pace
you search in old haunts
while she’s in another place
all woman
twenty-four-seven
she’ll let you know the time
your words to her are abstract
while her words always rhyme
her race has just begun
just beginning to hit her stride
cools out on island beaches
and watches the ocean tide
yeah
you’re singing it off key
but this is Nallia’s song
imitations aren’t accepted
your versions take too long
when next you see her passing
in the hall or on the street
don’t try to catch up with her
just sit down and take a seat…
