What Could It Be? Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

At birth it is a rather small
and barely visible at all
identifier for the folks
and butt at times for silly jokes.

It grows, of course, in later years
and on occasion it appears
that it will stand up to attention
though few will point to it or mention
this feat of physiology
some girls do ask 'how can this be? '

The decades take their deadly toll
and if you were to have a poll
you'd keep the size of middle years
because, that's when those little gears
still function freely, cog on cog
and rarely get into a bog.

It's funny, says the narrative
that what starts small can grow so stiff
only to shrink to tiny size.
It must be said that God was wise.