He didn’t like cotton, polyester, or wool
He had no need of pants, or shoes, or shirt,
for he relished the feel
of air on skin.
He did, however, love
The cowboy boots that kind of fit him
.
Early he would rise, and much to my surprise,
He’d shove boots over sockless toes
And disappear from site
Didn’t matter if they were on the wrong feet
Cuz he left the house knowing he was
a well dressed boy
I think, perhaps, he had a floppy old hat,
which he placed squarely on his head,
before making his plan of attack
and down the dusty trail he then would stride,
across the road, to play with Toad,
another well-dressed boy.
I don’t remember what shoes he wore
when his car flipped and
spit him through the shield.
I’d rather focus on those well-worn boots
And frumpy old hat that made him feel
like a well dressed boy
And how when he was older
He liked donning silk shirts and slacks
Cuz he was becoming a well-dressed man
Yes, I like to remember him
Laughing and free, strutting across the road
a well dressed boy.
