I’ve grown this new stuff on my face
It grew from a place without trace
Right now resembling torn lace
Or some expectorated waste
It hangs there silent, gray and dull
From follicles once daily shorn
Unlike the stuff atop my skull
The longest beard I’ve ever worn
No routine shave but I should mention
It does require detailed attention
Trimming edges of mustache
Hope I don’t give lip a gash
Must learn to deal with facial hair
As food gets lodged within its lair
Instead of napkin front to back
Could leave it there for future snack
Most of life I shaved face clean
Didn’t follow faddish lean
Now I’m filling time and place
Getting used to fuzzy face
Find I’m giving beard a stroke
As I let it grow for broke
To satisfy my lady’s whim
Leading me to write this po-em
(c) 2018