As I sit in front of mirror
Looking at my grey hair and receding hairline
My wrinkled face, the wasting skin
Sinking eyes and pale cheeks
Memories of my childhood float
In a cascade of images!
Then, the world was so different
Full of laughter and fun
Going to Barber shop was
A chore resented, who liked
To be confined for so long?
And allow the knives and scissors to play a ding dong?
Looking in the mirror
I found my own face so funny
So small and puny, I looked around
And find a fat man sitting in the chair beside
His cheeks fluffy and full
That moved mirthfully
When he shook his big head like bull.
But the more difficult
Was the time later
When One had to shower
And shampoo one’s hair
And comb one’s hair and present before mother
To hear,
you look much better!
Now, Dad does not stand by my side
Supervising the Barber, watching
That his scissors don’t overplay
That tufts of hair behind my ears
Are neatly pruned and frayed
That the apron protects the shoulders
From falling hairs so sheared!
I pay the Barber, Thank him and
Walk back home, pensively
Where a shower awaits me
But no approving look from
My mother, nor her warm smile
That lovingly echoed
‘You look much better’!
scribo ad LX 