Black Butterfly

I have had these whisps of a romantic story floating thru my head for a few days now.

All I know is it involves a man, a woman, hair and a tender kind of love. I have a fixation on hair, if you haven't noticed that yet. I LOVE my hair, even though we tend to have differences of opinions on some occasions about just HOW it should be handled... but it is mine. Beautiful, (mostly) natural and all mine. Not that I won't get braids (extensions) put in at the drop of a hat, I'm not saying that at all.. I'm just saying that I respect my hair.. and it is an extension & expression of me. It is thick and curly (like my body) yet wild and utterly unique (like my mind).

annyhoow.. the story....the bits and pieces I have are more scenes than a story.. there is no plot, and really no storyline.. it is jus the musing of a man as he watches his woman move around the house, slipping into her natural self... converting from the outside woman to the home woman...and it peaks as she begans to take out her hair (the last piece of the transformation)

He helps her with her hair..and they lay... connected somehow by the hair in all of its glory that she has.. *sighs* Then he helps her put it inot a home sytle... lovingly and gently...I don't know...maybe the story is more abouta shifting of attitudes from the daily stresses of work/lifeto the peace and tranquility that SHOULD be home.

hmmm.... anyhow.... I can FEEL the story but can't quite seem to write it....maybe I will give it some time to grow.