The strangest thing

just floating there

before the mirror

one strand of hair.

A perfect question

mark it made,

just hanging there

and there it stayed.

I gently blew

At the strand.

Moved by the breeze

it swung and

it dangled, fluttered,

spun and twisted

no visible tie

of help enlisted.

It’s gentle spin

caught my eye,

made me wonder,

question why?

More so how?

I could only stare

At the motion

Of that strand of hair.

Was it mine?

Was it his?

What unknown source

was the cause of this?

At eye level

it was plain

that simple strand

came from my mane.

But how it floated

without support

I could not tell

A silk of sort?

I peered up

into the light

searched for silk

but none in sight.

A ghost behind

this trickery?

A message of

my hair to me?

Gently I pulled

at the long end

and saw it stretch

til giving in.

The question lingers,

about that hair

of ceratinly why

it floated there?