the hair collector

i’ll steal in as you sleep
if i’ve loved you at all and if
you see me at all hear me
at all it will be as the shrr
of an oar in a placid sea or
the hard muscle of a glacier
shearing off it will be the quick
delight of a rare seen bird red
and not to be held it will be
the scissor so close to your ear
taking what love must take
one small lock of you mine
and you’ll wonder
as it was so just a dream
if it was a cutting you heard
or the whisper of a once
so dear

Image: Antonio Gabola on Unsplash