I am cutting your hair.
Something I have done, from time to time,
For the last 19 years.
We used to have the TV on
to make sure that you sat very still.
You liked Dangermouse.
I can only do one hairstyle.
Its good that you still like it.
You close your eyes so I can cut your fringe.
I look at your beloved face.
I don't often get so close to your face now.
In my mind I see a small, round, chubby face;
smooth clear cheeks.
I look at the beard that is now part of you.
And I wonder where all the time has gone.