Skip to main content

The Yearly Hair Cut

Matisse "Self-Portriat"

Matisse "Self-Portriat"

When my hair grows too long to even care

and you feel the glare of everyone's stare

to the barber you go

a trim and yearly mow

and to find a place where price is fair.


My toddler gives my beard a tug

my hair has become a ratted rug

my self pride is at stake

cannot comb without rake

to take a peek at this long lost mug.


In a barber's chair is my new home

a quick gripe about how my hairs grown,

the buzz of the razor,

chunks of brown hit the floor,

a mountain of hair I once did own.


Your children don't recognize you,

you no longer look as if from the zoo,

my son loves it all cleared,

my daughter loves the beard,

hard to have your cake and eat it too.


With hair or no hair we still cuddle

right after initial befuddle

we share a joke and laugh

forgotten is Dad's rough

they both love to rub my stubble.

Related Articles