Whispered Wanderings

Freshly-cut locks of my hair
fall silently to the floor
like some discarded leaves
from a tree in Autumn.

The pile of hair swept up then,
but unlike a pile of leaves, a pile of hair
is not for jumping in, and besides
it rather resembles a disheveled cat.

I decide to leave some things behind
along with that pile of hair. Oh,
mostly things such as
caring too much what other people think,

And endlessly worrying about everything.
It’s time for me to be myself, let my
imperfections guide me to sweet connection
with other beautifully imperfect souls.

So I walk out of the salon
with my head high, smiling and feeling free,
knowing that I’ve lost so much more than just
a pile of hair.

klm
8/1/24