Getting old: as hard as it looks.
This truth is in mirrors and books.
Some slick surgeons will say
For a fee there’s a way—
But time’s no bought treasure. They’re crooks.
Providing a service, we hear—
A nip and a tuck by each ear;
With serum each morning
(The grave gives fair warning)
Watch creases and years disappear!
Presumptuous thieves, truth be told.
Oft wizened themselves, yet so bold.
With hairlines receding
They schedule a meeting:
Our silver transforms to their gold.
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