A soothing reggae tune oozes from the speakers
Its message far more ominous and compelling,
Sharper than the reverberating razor in his hands.
He gently cleans it in the best way he knows how
Pouring over it a glistening oil followed by surgical spirit
Then looks at me in anticipation, an almost ‘are you ready?’ nod.
He drapes my shoulders in a black linen cloth
Gently ties a knot behind my back – not too tight, not too loose
A ritual that feels new and strange every time.
I’m seated facing the mirror pondering his next move
Half filled with excitement, half fearing the shears in his hands
Rumor has it, a slight mistake and the damage is precarious.
He gently lowers his blades toward me; I can loudly hear their mechanical components
The cutting parts honed on granite stone and driven by electrons
Gyrating metal elements that leave a chill when that close to the ears
Yet am not worried for I trust the precision in his hands
Like a garden trusts the gardener with his various daunting tools
Severely armed to tidy and weed out unwanted vegetation
The sound that emanates from his pulsating razor when it lands on me,
Reminds me of an exciting tender age, mowing our front yard
My mind focuses on the resonance of metal on grass
He slowly shapes his way around, starting from the southern corner
Trimming off overgrowth in successive and defined motions
That lulls me back to the lawn, the smell of freshly cut grass
He ushers me to the mirror as he nears the edges
My silent approval ushers him on, now in shorter cycles
He might have been a landscaper in his previous life
He then lifts his razor, adjusts the lever and tests it on his finger tip
He’s keen to keep it just ferocious enough to clip off a nice hedge
But still sufficiently mild to glide off my skin in sweeping slashes
He finishes off with a hot swab, always the best part
A perfect contour of neatly trimmed mustache slowly takes shape
An after shave cologne wades through the air as it stings on my skin
I smile at the landscape transformed right in front of my eyes
And the mirror smiles right back at me in content agreement
A once shabby face now gleaming like a well tendered artwork
Script n rhyme
By Shedyk
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