You call me your knight in shining armor, A vision that quickens your heart. You say that I’m the man of your dreams. Hell, you even think that I’m smart. There is an old saying that love is blind, And it holds for both lads and lasses. I’m not really sure if the saying is true, But thank God for your rose colored glasses. Our time has made lovely memories, As I think back, somewhat reflective. I want you to love me...I really do, But let’s put things in their proper perspective. I’m not what you’d call a heart throb I’m not even sure I’m a beat Add to that, middle-aged and balding And the picture is almost complete. Honey, let’s be realistic And try to make the shoe fit. Although I’m not Quasimoto I’m also no threat to Brad Pitt. The locks that you finger so sweetly Must be handled with the utmost of care. Lets face it my darling, be honest, There’s much more scalp than there’s hair. The body you find so alluring Is older and stiffer and sore My chest is now where my belly was And my butt is now dragging the floor. My vision’s as good as it ever was, As long as my glasses are clean. And I still have control of my bladder, But I think I’m missing my spleen. Although you say you can’t see it, I’m past portly, you might even say fat. You have to admit the possibility That you may actually be blind as a bat. I’m amazed that you can’t see reality. To you, I’m youthful and fit. I’m actually old and downtrodden, But you, my lovely, have aged not one bit.Birth sign: Not entered
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