Invisible Moustache

I stand today before you, The most proud and exalted possessor Of the invisible mustache. Every day, I see so many men Who strut about in their mustaches, In their self-proclaimed amazing facial hair, And I just grin, Because I know if they could only see my glorious mustachio, All of their hair would spontaneously fall off and run away in shame. My glorious mustache is so perfectly curled and flawlessly smooth, With such an impeccable luster! The color of my hair, but golden so it shines In the sun like so many Spanish doubloons. Its beauty would make people blind, Would completely overwhelm your eyes, But my mustache is invisible, so you’re all fine. --Fine like each slender woven hair is so delicate And as thin as spider’s thread—but so strong, That not one blade exists that could shave it off! Oh, and it is so soft, so fine, That were you to run a hand across my face, You would not even feel my fabulous mustachio --So rich, like pistachio ice cream! Oh my, it’s like a dream To have this power only known to me! But still you may inquire, What is the point of having a mustache that no one can see? And my answer would be… It’s really inexplicable, and you can’t understand, Unless you also have a gorgeous, glorious, fabulous, amazing, shining and wonderful fantastic and befuddleful, indivisible and quizzical and ally-oopin-izzical , invisible… Mustache.