Whiskers

by Ron Nicholas

For years I stood at the mirror

Looking for whiskers to grow

Hoping that next time I look there

Hundreds of whiskers would show

But the days and the weeks kept on passing

As I raced to the mirror each morn

Hoping that this time would be it

The day that my whiskers were born

Then one morning I saw something showing

It was such a wonderful sight

You had to look hard to see it

It was there when you pulled the skin tight

I yelled with delight when I say it

It was right on my chin

The features of it quite amazed me

It moved when I gave off a grin

I raced out to mum in a hurry

My plight it was easy to see

Dad’s razor I need right this moment

A shave with no option for me

But mum just wasn’t excited

As she walked over and gave me a hug

If it grows too fast don’t you shave it

Just grab it and give it a tug

The days and the months kept on passing

As the whiskers appeared one by one

But mum still told me no shaving

Just hold on, the big day will come

Then one day I pleaded with mother

‘I have to, please understand’

‘Well I hope you know what your doing’

‘Now careful and steady your hand’

With shaving cream, brush and hot water

My face was covered in white

New blade in the razor I started

Mostly pimples I cut, what a sight

From then on the years passed quickly

My memory well sometimes fails

But that bloody first shave, it still haunts me

As ‘you slob have a shave’, my wife wails