I like to lie and wait to see
My mother braid her hair.
It is as long as it can be,
And yet she doesn't care.
I love my mother's hair.
And then the way her fingers go;
They look so quick and white,-
In and out, and to and fro,
And braiding in the light,
And it is always right.
So then she winds it, shiny brown,
Around her head into a crown,
Just like the day before.
And then she looks and pats it down,
And looks a minute more;
While I stay here all still and cool.
Oh, isn't morning beautiful? THE END.
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