Hair Cuts

I love rainy days
and dreary skies.
The gray surrounds you
in damp
and melancholy dreams
of long gone summers
by the river,
under pine trees
and amongst their
earthy perfume.
I’ve lived here for so long
that I can’t picture leaving.
But change is in my brain.
So instead of scenery,
I cut my hair
and hope that replaces
the sudden urge
to move to palm trees
and sandy edged beaches.
I’m home in both but…people.
I need them
to create a life
that’s bearable.
Changing is hard.
Could I leave the mountains
for the shores?
Would it be better
with blue waves
and salty air?
Would I miss the gray sky,
the ominous clouds
hovering,
ever-present,
in the distance?
Would you be better?
Would I be better with you?
Like before?
I don’t know.
Maybe I should just stick to
changing my hair.

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