The Haircut Poem by Randy McClave

They sat me down upon their chair
Anxiously and impatiently I sat there
Nervous was I, so I whimpered out a sigh
But I was ready for them to cut my hair.

The hairdresser she talked to me for a bit
I felt happy and handsome I must truly admit
She felt my hair, as the patrons did stare
As upon that swivel chair I did sit.

I was then taken to the Shampooers sink
The Hairdresser shampooed my hair as I did think
I spoke, but I stalled, happy I am that I am not bald
So instead I gave my hairdresser a happy wink.

I was then led back unto my chair
I smelled the scent of her perfume in the air
I was then afraid, as I saw the tools of her trade
But she promised me all of her loving care.

Clip, clip, clip the scissors I then did hear
So close was that sound was to my ear
My hair it fell, from my head it was expelled
As I watched her craftsmanship from her mirror.

Then not long later she finished her job
I looked at my hair and I gave her an appreciative nod
She then finished the clip, I gave her a tip
At her work and gentleness I was both pleased and awed.


RANDY L. McCLAVE