His shaven face purrs.
Then day-old whiskers hurt and burnish.
Two-day-old growth tickles.
Three-day growth is too much.
She leaves for a week.
Ten-day growth intrigues.
Fuzzy strokes.
Will she forgive his first three days?
Two weeks in, she agrees.
It’s purr-fect.


Except for my four-day-old unshaven face needing a whisker scrubbing, I’ve no idea where this blurted out non-rhyme came from. But I like it. The rum may have nudged it along.

2 thoughts on “Whiskers

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.