let us call it a routine,
she hits the play button

           then a spray of warmth washed over her

morning shower
humming to tunes of A-Ha
reminiscing the last minute details

​

carefully choosing my outfit

                                             or letting her choose

blue striped socks worn out with wrinkled edges
battered gray tennis shoes
three stripes at its side

 

sun-streaked

as if a golden shower

the ponytail has to be high

not one a single strand of hair sticking out

           she combs each strip

                      into one put-together tail

curled into elegance and beauty

perfect-

 

once allured to her sequences

there's no getting out

           like a muppet

now clutched in her hands

 

caught in its grip

grasping my thoughts

           taking on me

lost in its shackles