To A Hair Strand

Hello, strand of hair, lying the ground!
Neither moves nor makes a sound.
Everytime the winter breeze blows,
You find a home where no one knows.

I pity you, for you can't state,
The love you feel or the hate.
Why are you so lonely? Lying on the ground?
And neither moves nor makes a sound?

Perhaps you will to freely speak,
And tell the world the ease you seek.
Or you just yearn to stick instead,
With the other strands on my head.