Haircut

I never like getting my hair cut;
It’s awkward and I’m ill at ease.
If the hairdresser is unfamiliar,
How she’ll do offers no guarantees.

So you sit and you stare in the mirror,
Are confronted with proof of your age;
And you chit chat and watch her and wonder,
Is she good? But you really can’t gauge.

As she snips and engages in small talk,
You sure hope her diploma implies
That she’ll finish and you won’t be left with
A strange person you don’t recognize.

But no matter the outcome, I figure,
As she calculates what I am owing,
That tomorrow I’ll wake up and know that
My short hair will already be growing!