Thy beard
thy hairy chest
whence once
waxed I loved
thy forehead now
one eyebrow dense.
Thy woven nest
so thick a moss a forest
so numerous, I can not
see the trees.
Thy scisssors and razor broke
No Nair nor candle left,
I can no longer tend you.
I have weaved those armpits for
the last time,
you need
a riding mower.