The Alchemist

The Alchemist, the cauldron stirred,

He mixed it all with care.
Pulling vials from off the shelves,
He rubbed his thinning hair.

Taking a handful of the stuff
He slapped it on his head,
Then covered it in cheesecloth
Before retiring to his bed.

He repeated this routine for weeks,
Even summoned the occult.
He hoped and prayed his mixture worked,
Then checked out the result.

The Alchemist unwrapped his head,
In a looking glass he gazed.
His weary eyes sprung open,
My God! he was amazed.

Ginseng and geranium,
Selenium and zinc,
What other items should he add?
He had to stop and think.

He went out to his garden,
Collected eggs from quail,
Dug up liquorice root and thyme,
Collected willow leaves and snails.

Returning to his home-made lab
He crushed, boiled, and infused,
He mixed in hog and vulture grease,
And the fat of river eels.

There were even secret additives
That only this man knows,
To make this fine concoction
For a purpose not disclosed.

He let it set for near a week,
So the ingredients could meld.
The time had come to test the brew,
The Alchemist's new salve.

A head of bushy golden hair
Sprang up to meet his eyes,
Where only baldness gleamed before,
He beamed in smug surprise.

He hadn't turned lead into gold
Or water into wine,
But hair where no hair grew before
To him, was just as fine.

By John Hansen
Artist David Henderson