The Haircut The Sunday Whirl #265

There’s doubt with our talk,
her words in the air
mingle with mine,
each bit of hair​ she cuts
falls away wild
to the floor
lost and loveless.

The mirage is real:
seagulls searching for light
circling the shore amid the smoke.

The future of day breaks in our eyes
fallen bodies
shaping September
it distills time cradling
boats in the water.​

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4 responses to “The Haircut The Sunday Whirl #265

  1. “…and breaks our hearts.” I liked your piece!

  2. This feels like one of those lost and found moments – lost in our thoughts..finding some kind of connection to the ebb and flow of the moment..the falling hair sounds loud in someways..like tears dropping on the water – wishing you a peaceful week.. xo

  3. ‘fallen bodies shaping September” – This is excellent!

  4. Sometimes one needs to tolerate the ‘conversation’ as it is a way to avoid boredom while sitting in the chair. It tends to make the whole process faster to complete! Great lines Pamelita!

    Hank

I appreciate all comments.

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