The Lady Who Cuts My Hair Poem by Francis Michael Bacon

Must get the chair by the radiator,
Never have to wait for long,
Here she comes,
I get her every time,
The relief, the joy, the loveliness,
Buzz the clippers start,
Deep sigh, relax, dream,
I feel at home.

"Hold still now",
Ah the voice I love,
No heavy chat,
Just the holidays and weather,
Her hair so beautiful,
And her touch light,
I could listen to her,
For the rest of my life.

Let's split, run away,
Find our freedom,
A world cruise, or Spain,
But I won't suggest it,
She has children and so do I,
Although she is my Valentine,
I think my wife knows,
And we can wait.

(2011, Arisaig)