Delicate, I close my eyes
I dare that your scissors snip
With a care that I can see
From the calm of my kindness
Of all the pleasure that you take
I give profoundly, not wanting
Other than for the curls to
Return, soft as next year’s spring
This, that you hold tender
Between thumb and forefinger
With an enquiring touch
Suggestive of wanting
My eyes opened behind me
And slowly I give my all to you
