Tim’s Dad once took his shirt off and it made Tim gape and stare,
For underneath in mighty tufts rested mounds and mounds of hair!
Tim watched his dad using a comb to assure his back was neat.
“My,” thought Tim, “To grow such curls, now that must be a feat!
What better way to show my Dad just how proud I am?
To be his son, his protégé, and of course, his biggest fan!”
And thus, Tim set out to grow a coat of his very own.
To begin, he mentally willed it as he huffed and groaned.
Needless to say, that didn’t work, still he tried to make due,
Though perhaps he exaggerated when he tried voodoo.
At last, he decided the only way to get a mane
Was to fill up a bathtub and bathe in Rogaine.
So he did, and once he was out, he felt a peculiar tickle
First one thread sprouted, and now a patch the size of a nickel!
Massing clumps engulfed his body as Tim choked for air
It was when he felt growth on his tongue he truly got a scare.
In rushed Tim’s Dad, and his eyes grew wider than a cookie,
For in the middle of the bathroom stood Tim the Wookie.
He took his son to the sink and helped him to shave bare,
“I had thought you’d be ten before we shaved your facial hair.”
Tim’s Dad grinned and sat his son on his on his knee,
“Come on, Tim, you should know that you are free.
I’m a genuinely stupid man whose mistakes are numerous,
I’ve done so much I’m ashamed of that it’s beyond humorous.
There’s no way I’d want you to be like I am,
You’re my son, my protégé, but soon you’ll be a man.
For my multiple sins, I have made many amends.
You’ve never been my clone…you’ve always been my friend.”
Tim looked at his Dad and tears poured out in flashes,
“Hmm,” said Tim’s Dad, “I guess we should shave those eye lashes.”
Poem: Tim's Body Hair
