Silver shows

I flinch before the scissors close. You lift the comb and wait. Scissors snip softly You fasten a towel around my neck. The supper plates are drying. You tilt my chin toward the bulb. I turn away from the light. A box of dye is by the sink, the gloves still folded flat. You part my hair above the ear. I brush the silver back. You rest your palm against my nape. I nearly ask you to leave it there. Kiss me where the silver shows, where I comb it out of sight. I can bear the kitchen light if you want me in it. Kiss me where the silver shows. Let me look my age tonight. (Kiss me where the silver shows) The first night that you stayed till morning, I rose before you stirred. I scrubbed a dark mark from the pillow, then turned it toward the wall. You thought I had an early start. I let you think I did. Now you turn the box face down and ask how short I want it. Kiss me where the silver shows. Leave the box beside the sink. You ask me what I'm frightened of. I say, That you might mind. Kiss me where the silver shows. Let me look my age tonight. (Kiss me where the silver shows) Soft guitar strums open You set the comb beside the sink. I've never known you young. You borrowed my glasses for the menu the evening that we met. I liked the way you looked at me once you put the menu down. I reach up to cover the silver. You catch my hand and kiss it. Kiss me where the silver shows. I leave it in the light. The box stays closed beside the sink. Your hand stays warm in mine. Kiss me where the silver shows. I can look my age tonight. (Kiss me where the silver shows) You loosen the towel at my throat. The cut hair falls onto your shoes. I feel you brush the last strands off. Your mouth is warm against my neck. Scissors laid flat