yellow and black spotted butterfly gets nectar from white flowers

Ode to My Chin Hair

Barely had the bell of my 40th year rang

When from underground a wispy white beast did sprang

Stealth yes she was, she couldn’t be captured

I alone was no match for her slippery stature

Reinforcements called in

(A husbandly duty)

With giggling admiration of her unnatural beauty

Until finally was plucked from her den

Triumph! Oh Triumph!

To be rid of this goliath

I am the master of age!

No close of a chapter!

No turn of the page!

Not a month went by

(This beast is not shy)

Her tickle revealed by the wind

What? NO!

Into a giantess form she had grown

My earlier triumph now dim

Angered and spurned

Utterly confounded by her return

Thoughts flooded, “she must burn!”

Desperate, I snarled and snagged her myself

“No age of forty will put me on a shelf!”

I got you! I got you! I screamed from my cage

I glared upon her but away drained my rage

And the pride of the war I had waged

A door stood open a knowing emerged

 Emotional tirade I must purge

And from fear diverge

Right then and there to the beast I befriended

Temper tantrum now ended

My age I embraced as splendid

(but don’t get me wrong I still don’t approve

her presence I’ll will happily remove)