Newly burnished by the Turkish barber,
His bald head gleamed like a beacon at twilight.
Hot-towelled and nicely oiled,
Lemon cologne helped it smell just right.

Nigel, follically challenged, headed for a date.
Someone he’d stopped swiping at on OkCupid.
She was a middle-aged divorcee named Millicent.
He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being stupid.

Three years since he last went out with a woman.
Two since any remaining hair departed from his head.
With his confidence and courage marginally raised,
He had to admit he was starting to feel like a newly-wed.

A nervous excitement was tangible in his tummy.
He was scanning for a lady wearing a French beret.
There she was sitting alone at a table for two.
She looked up and knew it was him straightaway.

He shook her hand, anxious about being too presumptuous.
They ordered two drinks: a red wine and a gin and tonic.
Millicent was clearly nervous and edgy, just like Nigel.
He hoped she’d want a relationship but not just platonic.

Millicent said she wasn’t concerned about his hair loss one bit.
She’d hardly looked at his bald head all night.
She said she’d really love to see him again.
Nigel was sure he’d just grown three inches in height.

His confidence restored he wondered why he’s been anxious.
Maybe he thought his appearance was what mattered most.
Millicent proved that wrong; she was keen on the man himself.
So to hair, loss Millicent and Nigel duly raised a toast.