She twists her curly hair in her hand,
rolls it over and over, then tucks it in,
a skill perfected over the years.
A few rogue strands, though,
defying this stubborn order,
slip out on a journey of their own.

It shouldn't hold together,
this messy bun of hers,
but it does.
It shouldn't look beautiful,
but it makes my heart smile.

They say the universe is 13.8 billion years old,
planets and galaxies spin round and round,
a motion refined over the eons.
A few wandering stars, though,
cast out from their galaxies,
flung away by gravitational forces.

Existence shouldn't exist,
but here we are.
Chaos should reign order,
but we have cosmic harmony.

This universe is nothing but,
just her sloppy hair bun.