A Beard Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
A Beard
A face full of whiskers hanging about
doing nothing much, but looking around.
Little white ones and little black ones
popping in and out, like salt and pepper
on sauerkraut.
What am I talking about? Surely you can
tell!
It's what is commonly called a beard.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/18/2024 10:43:52 PM # 1.0.0.1119
