This is my first poem that I've composed so I bet it's really bad, but there it is.
There are rumors in the town
They say 'tis 'bout Mr. Brown
He's getting old
He's getting grey
But that is not the worst they say
You could hear it at the market
You could hear it at the mall
You might even receive a phone call
From the person who started it all
But don't worry its not sad
It won't even make you mad
You'll get older
You'll get greyer
Then when you go to brush your hair
You will find that its not there!
