Tuesday - Ribbon

[ninanevermore]

Today on the drive into work, I noticed a man walking past a bus stop. He was tall and lanky, with worn blue jeans and a shabby gray tee shirt that has seen better days. He had a dingy look about him that said that whenever his last bath was, it wasn't as recent as this morning or last night.

But his facial hair was trimmed as neat and artistically as the hedge around a well-kept garden. His beard was was a half-inch wide ribbon that traced his jawline, then avoided his chin and mouth by curving up into a mustache that came down on the other side of his face to follow his jawline back up toward his ear.

He did not bother with mending his clothes or fret over decent shoes, but his beard was his pride and joy, his sculpted, crafted, artistic statement to the world. With a beard so lovingly cared for, so perfectly rendered, what did he need to bother with that other stuff?

I only wish I had one thing about me that I could take such pride in, that I could put before the world and say, "This represents me. This is my glory. Behold me. Admire me. Adore me."

Comments

[noblwish.livejournal.com]

#1. "For that matter, the average poem is bad, non inspiring, insipid, stupid and lame."

That just makes you all the more special!

#2. "Our son is going to grow up VERY confused."

Well, if that's all, then I'd say you were a pretty good parent. What's the worst that could happen? His confusion leads to a reality show where he shares domestic tips with four other, um, "friends?" ;)

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

*groan* Not that there's anything wrong with that, but he *is* my only shot at grandchildren, so I'm hoping no.