The Miniature Cartography of Wandering Hair

From a vast tress, an island breaks away,
A dark filament, a small voyager.
Without farewell, without tearing, its journey starts today,
On linen white, a point astray.

Wind or breath, its secret guide,
Pushes it past cheeks, through invisible tide.
A silent explorer, with nowhere to hide,
On dust oceans, where quiet hedges abide.

Each drawn curve marks a border, a memory,
Of hair laid down, a thought so light.
And in its stillness, an accord ephemeral to see,
With falling shade, a secret path of night.