Hello, is that you?

Hello, is that you?

So, start at the top,
and work your way down,
From the disappearing hairline,
and the forehead with the perpetual frown.

The eyes are faded and bloodshot,
the lashes like an old picket fence.
The bags underneath can’t be carried,
and the wrinkles becoming quite dense.

Of course, the nose never changes,
I really don’t understand why!
The bit underneath is a farm track,
rutted, whether wet or dry.

The mouth looks as though it is fraying,
as the lippy creeps up through the cracks,
No longer plump and luscious ‘
surely kissing is what it lacks.

The teeth that used to be there,
long gone with the passing of time,
they sleep all alone in a jar now,
until the morning around half-past nine.

The cheeks have gone past the jaw line
and now joined up with the neck.
I look like a pickled walnut.
It’s time for some uplifting “High Tec “