Dainty as a flower it sounds.
Though not in the elongated appendage from the head of an animal description
In dictionaries the definition abounds.
My hooter is now a proboscis.
Not dainty by any means.
The size of a house and as bright and shiny as the Moon
Or so it seems.
The mirror never lies
Although the truth may be somewhat hidden
Like my top lip beneath the snout what I am now ridden.
My conk has always been large
Round and regal some in the know would say
But lately it’s its own archipelago
Though not volcanic, I hope and pray.
My nose is now a beacon
Like Rudolph’s only better
Much larger, rounder, shinier and distinguished
And thankfully not much wetter.
My bulbous nose is there first,
The face arrives seconds later
But never in my %@#*& years
Has its presence been much greater.
Please note: this is a piece of nonsense writing and is in no way a reflection of yours truly whose nose remains unaffected, unchanged and most succinctly unbulbous in any manner of imagination, real or otherwise.