Beard (an acrostic poem)

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Been yanking on his face hairs since she was a wee little babe

Every day was a repeat of the last, and he loved every minute of it

And yet, one day she decided she was too old to do it anymore

Reaching for his own face hairs, he gave them a tug

Damn that hurt.  It just wasn’t the same.

Ancient (an acrostic poem)

Age practically dripped from his eyes

Narrow crevices in his cheeks channeled it to his down turned lips

Catching on the stubble of his six day old white beard

It collected there until large drops of it plopped to the ground below

Eyeing those around him, he wondered if they realized how quickly time moved

Nothing had prepared him for that rapid transition

Too bad he couldn’t tell time to get off his lawn, else he might be fertilizing it

 

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Cold (an acrostic poem)

Coughing white steam while walking

Oblivious to the icicles forming his beard

Losing feeling in all exposed body parts

Deciding the Caribbean was a place he needed to be

 

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