The Moustache, The Boy, The Wardrobe Poem by Anandita Bhalerao

One day I dropped a bottle,
I thought it wasn't a very big mistake.
These thoughts lasted only until,
I saw it wasn't just a piece of cake.

Out came a moustache that killed 453 people,
And injured many more.
It kept slapping a woman,
Until her cheek was sore.

There was one boy who wasn't scared,
I think he was seventeen.
Thank God he was there to protect me,
For he was standing in between.

He seperated me from the moustache,
He was there protecting me.
Otherwise I bet that mighty moustache,
Would have had me for tea.

Suddenly there was a loud noise,
And the moustache fell to the floor.
I guess it was the wardrobe,
I had seen the other day at the store.

It was no ordinary wardrobe,
I told my mother so.
But she had just let out a tremendous sigh,
And told me to lie low.

Once the moustache was out of my way,
I ran to greet the boy, my hero.
To celebrate, he wanted to,
Dance to the beats of his stereo.

Next I went to the wardrobe,
Who I give more credit.
For he was the one who had gotten rid of,
That big ol' hairy bandit.

First he told me to thank him,
And when I did, he said, 'Mention not',
Well all wardrobes can be confusing,
Whether still for sale or already bought!