Opa Johan Having His Hair Cut
And there she stood. Her face, her bossom, her waist so
near I could touch, embrace, kiss it, when she, my little fool was cutting my
hair. My eye (one eye only, the other eye is clouded) is still so sharp without
glasses. I watched: her skin so clear, her lips soft red, her glasses on, still
... beautiful, yet she’s over eighty.
But I didn’t tell it her. Ha. Ha.
December 2013
This is my book. You can read it.
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