The Cat's Paws

Brendon earns his bread and butter
as an artist at Anna's -
Anna's Beauty Salon. 
He places the smock across my shoulders
as if it were a feathered gown; 
I feel resplendent already.
Removing the pencil from my messy bun,
he unfastens my hair with
hungry hands. 
His fingers dance with intrigue like the
balloons bobbing on the mirror..

He is the cat and I am his cream.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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