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Locks

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Like carefree petals following the singing wind

or the silky threads of Chinese tapestry, so

smooth and soft, like moist clay or dust-like sand,

drifting between our fingers, shying away

from the slightest hint of touch or graze.

Like a child hurtling away from the fiery glare

of the menacing crystal ball. Bereft of darkness, yet

as dark as the coal of misty mines. Couple of

curls and twirls, twisting and ebbing aimlessly.

Like meandering vagaries of gushing winds

or the browbeaten concave leaves of fire

running roughshod, devoid of gravity.

The untameable mane of the proud feline. Her

instinted locks flew with the cold breeze

of mendacity. She glanced at time’s legacy;

time’s proof of existence on her body. She then

dreamt of a horizon where her frilly wings would

reach her ankles. Perhaps, then, she would be

able to float after her grand leap, and become

the daring dark horse galloping under the pristine

breezy twilight sky of bona fide,

and dance alongside the cheery dandelions.

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Jiva M. Tandrayen, an 18-year-old student, is from Mauritius. She has been previously published in the poetry collection African Children’s Stories, from Ducere Foundation.

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