Donald R. Anderson
The Velvet Brush
She brushes her hair
in the window by amber afternoon light,
listening to the '40s on a radio.
The birds outside sing,
and the plush chair longs for release
as she relaxes, just another
amber afternoon light.
She brushes her hair
with a velvet brush,
her hair chestnut and red,
as she has read it must be,
in her romance novels in fancy covers.
The music longs to be free.
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