Brushing Her Hair, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Brushing Her Hair
Woman combing her Hair, Fanny Cornforth, Dante Rossetti (1864)

Bushing Her Hair

She knows I watch as she brushes her hair
Dare not ask if this is a teasing stall
Remain frozen with an amorous stare
Leaning toward the near wall should I fall

Ritual that must be done every night
Started long before I was on the scene
Would quickly be filled with much grief and fright
If this task I were attempt her to wean

No less than a hundred strokes of the brush
That glides as a skater over the ice
Without any tension, without a rush
So that each and every stroke is precise

Hair lifted exposes her naked neck
Part of the ritual want not to miss
As now my passion I quickly uncheck
On her soft neck I place a hungry kiss