In the garden of facial flair,
A follicle fancy beyond compare.
From upper lip, a sprout takes hold,
A mustache story to be told.
It starts as a whisper, a gentle tease,
A patchy promise on a breeze.
With each passing day, it grows with glee,
A facial masterpiece, wild and free.
Handlebars curl, like a whimsical ride,
Attracting stares from far and wide.
It's not just hair, it's a bold display,
A facial feat, a mustache ballet.
Through soup and wind, it takes a stand,
A fuzzy friend, oh so grand.
So if you're feeling a bit mundane,
Grow a mustache, break the chain!