Gráinne Mhaol

September 5, 2011
She tossed the shears into the ocean;
Holding fire hair over the sea.
Watching the waves leap and grasp for it;
This hair that once belonged to them
Was now clasped in her hands.
She allowed the scarlet tendrils to slip
From her calloused hands like water,
And they reunited with the white curls of foam
That beckoned them.

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