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Hair and Bridges

Now that the rain took over your hair,

I can caress and touch it, while we are on the bridge.

I can fell it’s softness. Just like velvet,

when my fingers and your curls become one.

Now that your curls have given up to the rain,

I can see, much better, your face on the Brooklyn Bridge.

I can also feel your skin’s tenderness,

when I look and touch, your face with my face.

Now your hair is almost straight.

It covers completely your long back.

It reminds me of all the long New York City bridges,

making more beautiful each river.

T.B.F.