Ode to the follicly challenged

Each morning I’m reminded,
We baldies have a sartorial edge,
Hair free and care free,
But for the odd spray of pledge,

You may point you may laugh,
With your curly long locks,
At my shiny bald pate,
Teamed with sandals and socks,

Once I was like you,
With your tresses of gold,
Look at your future,
When you too are old,

Those potions, that unction,
Head massage frenetic,
They won’t change a thing,
The hairline’s genetic,

Each strand in your hairbrush,
Each strand in your bed,
They all take their toll,
In your expanding forehead,

But don’t you fret,
Dry that tear of sorrow,,
It’s just proof of the adage,
Hair today, gone tomorrow!

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