Black Hair

Streaks of black-blueish hair running down those shoulders of yours.

Thin you are, mighty and swift, like mountain winds.

Turmoil n' magic you bring along those swirls in the woods,

blowing everything up and then letting it settle down in a silent bloody maze;

no odds nor ends...one I dared to walk.

Point is....if any at all...

Streakes of black blueish hair greeted me from the other side of the mirror this morning,

as if there were no time in here as there is none outa there.

Would u finally agree that there is no time, mate?

Or there'still some talking to be done over the bridge...?

I'd gladly do the talking; black hair will do the rest.