Bit of a scruffy scoundrel sometimes isn't it around ones face like a lions mane it will sit, Varied lengths shapes and colours the growers are all like brothers.
It's not just ****** hair some dont just stop and stare, others want to touch the beard maybe reading this you think that's weird.
Taking pride of place upon ones face designer stubble there's not a trace, like giving your pet a comb and groom to some a shave would spell doom.
Though this may sound perverse to touch it would be no curse, pogonophiliacs want to give it a stroke to others they sound like crazy folk.
Cooks we may not all be it's true we love our women like our beards too, adding in a little oil and sometimes butter served to make their hearts flutter.
( C ) Grant Dickson 04/10/2018
I decided to write this random poem today national poetry day, I hope you all enjoy