Metal on metal
On hair
And suddenly a year of my life
Is lying on the counter.
My head is lighter:
Shorn or free?
Discarded locks hold the key,
Perhaps.
But they are wet and limp and silent
And their companion-ends
Too raw for an opinion.
I’ll sleep on it,
And see what I think tomorrow. 🙂
Copyright 2015 Andrea Lundgren
