Who is this stranger
A face that seems so familiar
It's features coarse and hard
Its whiskers grey and rough
Eyes no longer bright
Dark rings beneath them
Bags, no, more like holdalls
Wash and groom gel and shave
Presentable for today
A day for what
Who's the effort for
What meaning now as I'm alone
It's not enough my face is rough
My little fellas shrunk to a stump!
No morning glory anymore
Just memories of fun had before
So gel or wax? Who gives a toss
I may even shave it off
Who's to care if it's a cue ball head
Between the hrs I spend in bed
Enough enough ! Get a grip
The stranger really does exist
You lost, your path took a wrong track
Now though you must come back
Until the morn when as before
The stranger looks at you once more

Whilst some carry only the smallest of
holdalls;
Unswayed by weight & undefined by contents.
  *Others will just see, "baggage".