In youth I had a mass of hair,
Every strand was in its place,
Then gradually it wasn’t there,
And every day I had more face,
Such a loss is filled with grief,
Now my head reflects a shine,
As I stare in disbelief,
This gleaming skull cannot be mine,
Stranger, as you pass me by,
Please don’t give a taunting jeer,
My hair has never said goodbye,
It’s in my nose and in my ear,
Every strand was in its place,
Then gradually it wasn’t there,
And every day I had more face,
Such a loss is filled with grief,
Now my head reflects a shine,
As I stare in disbelief,
This gleaming skull cannot be mine,
Stranger, as you pass me by,
Please don’t give a taunting jeer,
My hair has never said goodbye,
It’s in my nose and in my ear,
When pondering my pristine dome,
I long for use of brush and comb.
John Milton wrote a Sonnet on His Blindness. I thought I’d write one on my affliction.
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