It seems like an eternity that I have been waiting
When in truth it’s just been three months.
With no place to go and no one to see
This shouldn’t even be bothering me.
Yet each time I pass by that looking glass
I pause and ask, “Who is he?”
For the reflection I see can’t possibly be me.
I know I don’t look like that.
That hair isn’t mine; I don’t have flips.
My hair doesn’t cover my ears.
Flips in the back hair over my ears
It hasn’t been that long for years.
I need a cut, am desperate for a one
Tracey please call me soon.
The call came on Monday, “I’m reopening Friday.
Can you come in Saturday before noon?”
At 11:00 I will be there
Ready and willing to sit in the chair.
Clipping here and cutting there;
A floor that is covered with hair.
In 20 short minutes she works her magic.
I knew it wouldn’t take long.
For me I feel that it is a win.
I leave lighter than when I came in.