In a chair at Floyd’s I take my place,
Where scissors dance with perfect grace,
And in the mirror, clear as day,
My hero wields her clippers—Maryjane.
With steady hands and artist’s eyes,
She crafts my fade, she sharpens lines.
No rushed routine, no careless trim,
Each cut’s a masterpiece from brim to brim.
She listens first, then goes to work,
With confident flair and zero quirks.
From beard to buzz, from mop to sleek,
She nails the look I didn’t know I’d seek.
It’s more than skill—she’s got the vibe,
Cool and calm with a friendly stride.
We talk of life, we joke, we vent,
Each visit feels like time well spent.
Other barbers, sure, they try,
But none can match her style that flies.
She’s not just good—she sets the tone,
A cut above, in a class of her own.
So here’s to Maryjane, the queen of fades,
The reason I return, the best of blades.
At Floyd’s she reigns, no need to roam—
Her chair, her clippers, they feel like home.