It's a rainy day
Nobody peeps yet?
I sweep the floor
Last night's gathering
All sort of hair.
And it's very hard to segregrate
This's King's and that's Pauper's
Some were straight and some kinky,
Anyway I took the shovel and collected
All into the same bin.
And a customer comes in,
Offered me a big note
For a Crew cut!
I said sorry as I do not have change.
And he promised to return the money
Some other day but he never returned.
And quite sometimes I came to know
That he's a rebellious blacklisted Lawyer
From a quiet village.
And he's killed by an unknown
On his way home at midnight!
Still I could sniff that odor
Some kind of spirit in the soul!

*Death will come on padded feet
Carrying Roses in its mouth.
-Charles Bukowski

nimal dunuhinga

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-barber-writes/