Thursday, September 24, 2020


I was trimming my beard the other day when I asked myself, "Why am I doing this? Why am I putting so much effort into maintaining this beard when no one can see it?" The end result of that thought process was this poem.

Looking in the mirror,

Study my reflection.

Brushing the tiny hairs,

Carefully clip and trim

The mustache and the beard.

I wish it were thicker

(And that I saw less gray),

But I think it looks good.

One last look to make sure.

Then I put on my mask

So I can go outside

Into a world that’s changed.


Our lives are different now.

This virus has taken

So much from all of us.

Kept us from each other.

Forced us to cover up

Each time we go outside.

No one has seen my face

In such a long time. But

What happens to that face,

Underneath the paper,

That still belongs to me.

The virus can’t have that.


This virus has taken

So much from all of us,

But can’t take everything.

So, yes, I trim my beard

And clean up the mustache

To remind myself that

The world hasn’t ended.

That the face I see when

I look in the mirror

Has not vanished for good

And the day will come when

We’ll all take off our masks.


And,  maybe, on that day,

I’ll meet a pretty girl

Who’ll think that my beard makes

Me look like Iron Man…

What? It could so happen!

(You don’t know!)