Monday, April 09, 2007

#351: April 9, 2007

I've got to pluck the gray hairs from my beard;
it's not a case of vanity at all.
To be so shallow surely would appall,
and aged wisdom's hardly to be feared.

Rather, the case is one for seeming neat.
A lone white curl 'mongst whiskers brown and black
appears a remnant of my morning snack,
a souvenir of what I've had to eat.

Therefore with tweezers and these close-chewed nails
I seek out the offenders on my face.
I rip and tear 'til there remains no trace;
small scissors serve where such extraction fails.

If it makes me look younger, that's a plus
unsought--so let's just keep this between us.

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