A strand of hair
Connected to you like a root in soil.
Growing long and strong as the years go on.
Being moved, put up, let down and tugged on
yet still staying fastened to you.
Being washed, dried, heated, chilled.
Nevertheless still growing
getting longer each day,
stronger with every obstacle.
But as the impairment gets too much
It lets go, dead and damaged.
Falling gracefully through the air
on to the ground beneath it.
As one stares at the fallen piece of their life,
a new one starts growing.
Better than the last
sturdy, thick, lustrous.
Becoming a part of you again.
Becoming just as the last—
The cycle continues eternally.