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Mar 2017
Where there was something,
Now there is nothing:
A glade in the forest
Is all that remains.
The woodland of youth
Became wasteland;
No serum or tonic
Could Regaine* its flourish.
Sometimes, I run my fingers
Through the ghost
Of what was there.
I am, of course, speaking
Of my phantom hair.
*Rogaine to my North American friends.
Written by
RLG  London
(London)   
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