Crimp

Crimp—
a gentle fold in the hair,
a silver coil of wire,
a pressed line upon the page,
each bend a whispered prayer.

In salons, tongs hiss low,
waves rise like tide‑kissed dunes,
while engineers with steady hands
bind copper beneath the moon.

From pastry crusts to sail‑cloth seams,
the crimp holds fast, unseen,
a modest grip that shapes our world,
quiet, precise, serene.