The Hairbrush

A small hairbrush
On a small shelf
Over her bed

We had talked together
The night before
Not about the weather

Hurricane
Raining; 40 days and 40 nights
Had we talked about the weather

We had talked about things
Things difficult to talk about
Hard to continue, hard to stop

I had seen her comb her hair
I had not seen her brush it
It was a small hairbrush

A brush made for smaller hands than mine
I could picture her mother; brushing her hair
A memento; of mother lost

I showed her the brush; standing in front of the mirror
Picture a beach: children playing under the sun
Picture a beach: winter storm coming on strong

Picture a mirror: two faces
Picture two facial expressions
Changing; like waves on the sea

Picture a bed
Picture two people sharing it
Close encounters 

I decided to by her a gift
Thought about what to buy
Not a hair brush
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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