"Cut my hair a little towards the edge"
The slender-wrist man does, for the stage.

I hold her hair, smooth as a summer tune
And braid them, too beautiful to be genuine.

He has passed my sight many a time
That I have retained his earring's chime.

The girl sings and smiles contently
Dazzling up so high, unlike me.

He's a weak boy with few to speak
My...