The Certainty of Passion

The Certainty of Passion

Sitting intently before her mirror
Her freed dark hair tumbled
Like rivers
Cascading a fall.

Muted light
From the table lamp
Decorated her sweet form
And the smile in the parenthesis
Of her rosy cheeks.

Slowly she combed her thick locks
A soft “shushing"
Of the brush
The only sound
Save the quiet melody she hummed.

Unmindful of the slow
Passing of time
She was a study
In gentle grace
Reserved beauty
And the certainty of passion
Lying just below the surface
Known but to the one
Who held her heart
The way she held the brush
Smoothing her long mane
A study of balance
Between control
And unreserved ardor.

When night falls
When her hair lets softly down
When the song is finished
When she eases into bed
Nothing remains
Except dreams
And the hopes
Of what tomorrow may be.