It Matters Not

It matters not,
where you have been.
If it was, done for love
or a conjugal sin.
My sight is dimming,
as my hearing goes
and my body's a mess.
The hair, once luxurious
has started to leave,
as balding approaches.
My ears are starting to sag,
with skin now mottled
but this much I know,
as the climate keeps warming,
some of us must go
to that place of sugar and spice
as long as we have plenty of ice.