the one timeThe one time you got me to cut your hair,
You were surprised that I insisted on trimming it all short with scissors first,
So that the clippers didn't choke on it.
Your dark curls with their wisps of interwoven silver slipped silkily between my fingers as I tugged them away from your scalp,
Then hissed against the snick of the blades before tumbling like fallen leaves around my feet.
Your soft, boyish charm fell away under the work of my careful hands
As you sat in front of me, my legs entwined with yours.
I stepped around your knees as I sheared the youthfulness from your scalp.
You lean back and rest your head against the comfort of my body once I am finished,
Dusting my already covered clothing in still more stubble.
I chuckle and brush the stray hair from your brow.
The intimacy of these small moments are the lifeblood of love;
They endure long beyond those first flushes of infatuation
Or the elaborate romantic gestures.
A memory in the years to come of a shared moment,
Where 'nothing special' becomes very special indeed.
© mjc 31 May 2022