A Beard In Our House

Our father changed a year ago.
He let his whiskers slowly grow.
The face we knew soon disappeared,
Replaced by one that wore a beard.

Since then we’ve learned a lot about
Those hairy things that some chins sprout.
They’re soft and warm and good for tugs
And tickle cheeks when giving hugs.

A glued-on beard’s a good disguise;
It makes a man seem old and wise.
A beard’s like fur that hides men’s throats
And makes them look like billy goats.

When beards get wet they drip and droop.
They hang in bowls and soak up soup.
They cover jaws below the lips
And catch the crumbs of cakes and chips.

They come in many shapes and shades
And use no foam nor razor blades.
They dangle, tangle, flop, and sway.
In time they fade and turn to gray.

It’s good there are no beards on girls.
They’d put in ribbons, braids, and curls.
But, come to think, it would look weird
For any kid to grow a beard.