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Jan 2013
The prussian stache, on the wafty pine,
sticky black *****, on your stache has dried,
I excuse your tobacco dipping while I climb,
just to sway with the wind,
in your many tiered mustache ride.

As I reach the zenith of my ascent,
a small french stache of upward bent,
offered no more for me to climb,
so downward tickle of the mustache pine.
Keith J Collard
Written by
Keith J Collard  39/M/Dedham, MA
(39/M/Dedham, MA)   
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