Every Strand is a Gift

Anonymous High School Student

March 2025

Some say blondes shine bright like the sun,

But every shade of hair holds wonder, every single one.

Golden rays that dance in the light,

A crown spun from honey, warm and bright.

Like wheat in the wind or the glow of the morn,

A color so soft, yet fierce when it’s worn.

But sunlight fades as the day moves on,

And deep in the earth, a warmth is drawn.

Rich like the soil where the tall trees stand,

Steady as footsteps on solid land.

Chestnuts gleam in autumn’s air,

A quiet strength beyond compare.

Yet deep in the forest, where shadows grow thick,

Night starts to whisper, dark and quick.

A velvet sky where the stars ignite,

Dark as the depths of a moonless night.

Smooth as ink, bold and wide,

A mystery with galaxies locked inside.

But even the night holds embers bright,

A flicker, a flare, a spark in the night.

Like wildfire dancing in autumn’s embrace,

A blaze that refuses to know its place.

Copper and crimson, fierce and free,

A storm that refuses to bow to the sea.

Yet embers cool as time drifts away,

And morning rises in silver-gray.

The hush of dawn, the quiet of rain,

Soft silver threads both wise and plain.

A mist that lingers, a river that glows,

A story of time in the way that it flows.

So let them whisper, let them stare,

Every shade of hair is rare.

Not just a color, not just a hue,

But a story, a spark—a part of you.