My hair is finally gone,
by your hands of course...
It wasn't soon enough.
I guess I was just
a little too reluctant to
admit I appeared like a bum.

It's a little symbolic really,
the way your scissors separated
the old
in order to give way for new.
Maybe your car is a scissor;
looking for a stray strand back country road,
waiting for the opportunity to cut it's own line.

May your foot on the pedal be,
like the thumb on top of your scissors,
just push down.
Don't hesitate,
and don't look back.