The Barbershop

Through the window you can see him there, shaving whiskers and trimming hair. Red and white swirling outside the door, as hair drifts skittering across the floor. He stands all day, he works so hard dreaming of a sunbath out in his yard. The little girl waits with broom in hand, for the Barber to give the sweep command. And on Sunday, his day of rest, he let her do what she liked best. He sat and read in his rocking chair, while she braided ribbons into his wisps of hair. Lelah Walters 10/10/09