No problem fine lady, reject me
The fine hairs on your head will fall, I swear!
Baldness will be yours as it is to the vulture.
These streets you walk so proudly
Will no doubt refuse you as you do me.
The men you smile so well for
Will smile as soon as wrinkles hold you.
And the women who vainly claim
That no beauty surpasses yours
Will laugh when age hugs you.
Go on, refuse me; age will not.