A coiffure

What he said was etched into the frame of a mirror though redundantly

as I saw him utter words with a restraint of a coffee boy out serving romance

to his customers who would rather prefer to nibble at the air than to say something

He was enchanted with the hair and his passion seemed to be of an up to date cricketer

who wants to chug along the life with a pack of few sixes and fours so that his team wins

but his wits stood more than anything else, that is his mediocre frame and grave beard

will put an end to the newspaper editor who is busy competing with the political pundits of the country

A coiffure lend to me was all that hullabaloo, much of the swang-song over cuckoo’s nest


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