Hair Cut
I had enough of writing sad poems. So, I wrote a light-hearted poem about my visit to the hairdresser.
My hair grew to shoulder lengthDuring the recent lockdown for healthHairdresser had a waiting listI had to wait for three more weeks My hair looked tatty and grey on sidesLoosing hair was a fearful sightI knew if I had it shortThe problem would be sought The tiny bald patch I had in frontI covered by changing my styleReminded me when men cover their patchWith a strand of hair from the opposite side. On a windy day the strand would flyWould look as if he is going to flyWith his umbrella and his carrier bagI pictured this scene and had a good laugh The day of my appointment arrivedI wasn’t looking forward to the dayAlthough the hair dresserWas pleased to see me My hair was coloured in pitch blackShe was cutting and I had a chatAbout a poem I had written for her girlWho I used to teach when she was six I saw my black locks all over the floorHow much has she taken offLo and behold my hair was very shortShe kept cutting until I said stop I came home and peeked at the mirrorI couldn’t believe how I lookedLike a village idiot at a nearby farmAll I needed was a Worzel Gummidge hat I needed to visit the shops and it rainedIt was a good excuse to wear my hatSo that no one would see my short cropThe following day I didn’t go out Today I got up and washed my hairStyled it in my usual wayI looked in the mirror a sigh of reliefI’m glad to say I’ve got used to my face