Tag Archives: hair


26 Mar


I found the hair,

(I am sure it was yours)

in the footwell of my car

as I rummaged for sandwiches at lunchtime.

It must have been there for months.


Drawing it forth slowly; long, black,

a slight reddishness –

your Irish quarter, you once joked –

I stared at it a minute or two.



Lapsing into a sudden daydream –

and you were there,

with me in the car

as if real.


I reached out and put an arm around your waist

(in my mind of course)

as I looked into your face

a moment or two.


And then I awoke

to reality and drab peanut butter sandwiches.

But I left the hair in a rear footwell,

Ready to be discovered again, sometime.