I gaze at all the hats I've worn,
on my life path, they lay
Chef hat, multi ball caps,
a sailor's cloth beret.
Cowboy hat, speckled with sap,
flecked feathers in the band,
one silken wrap, lays on the stack,
beaded by Masai hands.
All the hats I've ever worn,
for work or just to play,
hold a story of my life,
in the most delightful way.
Fur hat with flaps, Pierrot skull cap,
my head, they all did share.
These days, the head is hatless ~
winds blow through silver hair.
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a two line eight stanza poem about yourself. Poem can be fact or fiction, funny or sad, but must rhyme. |
Author Notes
Thanks to jgrace for the artwork. Every situation called for a hat back then it seems, and each one held a story. My stained cowboy hat from building my log cabin, a pile of baseball caps and knotted bandanas from plastering jobs and my cherished woven sailing cap.
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