A Waterfall Of Feeling

You Asked Me If I Liked Your Hair Worn Short
As You Planned To Cut It Shorter.
It Makes No Difference To Me For In My Eyes
You Are Beauty Itself And If Your Hair Were As Long
As A Waterfall Cascading Over A Mile Long Cliff To Fall
Into A Foaming Pool That Throws Up Mist-Forming Rainbows;
Or If Your Hair Were As Short As
An Underground Spring That Only Brings Its Clear,
Cold Water Just Barely To The Surface Of The Earth
You Could Not Seem More Lovely More Beautiful To Me.
If I Seemed Sad And Looked Away When You Asked
If I Minded If You Cut Your Hair Shorter
My Regret Was Not That Your Hair Be Short Or Long
But That I Have Never Seen It On The Pillow Next To Me
And I Know I Never Shall For Your Heart Is Not Meant For Me
As Much As Your Beauty Is A Feast To Me.
My Rough Hands And Common Speech Were Not Meant For Thee
And I Would Not Try And Damn The Fates For Fear Of Damning Thee
So I Only Stand By Gazing On Your Loveliness Your Beauty A Moving Feast,
A Rich Repast To Me But Never Meant For Me.

By Bill Johnson