Oh, how I bemoaned your momentary sojourn, You fickle follicle failing forever in Time’s trial; You fragile fibre full of fabricated fiction. Insight was given to me. I saw the signs, witnessed the barren, winter wasteland in familial settings; heard the laments of many from the mouths of angry lions. In my youthful ignorance I thought myself above such senile torment. What a fool! My time came to mourn the loss of mine. Aged two scores and one I felt myself succumb, all the while living in denial. But Fate smiled on and presented the first sign of silky derma; gifted me with a barren crown. Or was it a new style that was passed on? Could I make it my mine, allow it to define? Yes. I accepted this twist of faith. I rejoiced in perpetual purity.I embraced this barren crown and now live on with surety.