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Poem

When I was just a nipper
My Dad used to take me to the barbers
The Barber would put a board across the chair
so I was higher
and he could cut my hair.

It struck me
how the barber was as bold as a coot
shuffling around in his brown smock
barbers suit.

It was known as the army barbers
everything was painted army green
and adorning the walls
there was pictures of soldiers and tanks
displayed to be seen.
And a picture of a man with greasy hair
the advert read 'Brylcream'.

The smell of brylcream and tobacco smoke
filled the air
emanating from an old man in a flat cap
in the corner smoking a pipe
sitting in his chair.

The clink clink of the scissors
I didn't like how the barber would
push my head here and there
without a care.

I was fascinated by the array of bottles and potions
and various hair tonics and lotions
Then the barber took a brush
removed the towel
and brushed the hairs off my neck
and from behind my ears
It used to tickle like heck.

Then I'd be lifted off the chair
and the board was put away
ready for another little boy
wanting a haircut to come his way.

I'd walk out of the barbers shop
feeling really strange like I was naked
uncomfortable and really funny
A traumatic experience for a mere nipper
I'd been sheared like a sheep
chocked from the smoke
and he had the cheek
to take our money.



Peter Dome.copyright.2015..

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