In my palm lies a single Strand of your long hair. While palmists may predict hoary futures from these lines.

I merely use this gathered relic To remember the gold of day lilies, Of rain trees, the gold Of a straying sunbeam that pierces

The summer rain I walk into, remembering and singing about love, Life's sole desire and fulfillment.
And someday it too shall cry out to you:

"Rapunzel, Fair Rapunzel, Let down your golden hair." Let it down, let it all down A spiral staircase for the Prince To come in, to come into you.