Primp goes with preen
And the bygone dreams,
From the days when we
Were young and fresh and clean.
Coiffing wavy blonde hair,
That would always stay there.
Never to recede,
Attack, not concede.
Who knew life would get so hard?
Wake up one morning, you’re a shitty, bald bard.
Writing rhyming words in a metered, hot mess.
Linking to the “Daily Prompt” on Word Press.