She Cut Her Curls

Trees of Oak and Chestnut, at opposing sides of my kitchen, as I, a leaf, dwell in the centre. A maiden, see, cut her wig ’till the carpet was adorned with curls, and grasped within coldness, then she ripened to step away. For her, he held his breath, with respect to the branches; watchful inclined to lean their way. His lips and the leaf’s did hug as platinum was placed upon fingers, and the kitchen decorated by time was left to the newly weds.