by white tiger

Created on: November 25, 2010

If I Were a Mustache

If I were a mustache, I would rest on the face of an attractive man.

An attractive man with blond curly hair and me,

As the mustache, as curly blond as the hair on his head.

My style, to match his, would be masculine and curved,

To match motorcycle handle bars or a soaring bird,

I’d move with his face when he laughs or grins,

I’ll flow in the wind and dance when he swims.

I’ll dread the day when I’ll grow too long,

And he’ll knick me to the rhythm of his favorite song.

Down some of me would fall to the counter-top cold,

No longer grotesque, no longer so bold.

But I’ll respect him in the end for considering my looks,

You can’t teach a good ‘stache in any facial books.

One day when he marries, he’ll shave me clean,

But I’ll look out from his stubble at his future dream.

His dream to be a family man with children one day,

With me on his lip, not throwing his manhood away.

I’ll be there for him to tickle their faces,

When he kisses them goodnight and lets them dream of good places.

And one day when they’re grown and fulfilling those dreams,

 I’ll still rest on his face and keep up my schemes.

To be on him for the rest of his days,

But there will come the day when I start to grey,

And my life as a juvenile mustache will wither away.

Even more dreaded will be that eve,

When he rests in peace below the leaves.

And I, a mustache, so trimmed for his last rest,

Remembering my friend who cared for me and treated me best.

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