The Hat

THE HAT

by

David Pirkle





Professor Parniferous Pirkle
Had his own favorite hat.
A derby that hung on his bedpost,
And sometimes on a coat rack.

He wore it for breakfast.
He wore it for lunch.
He wore it sometimes
Even for brunch.

Wherever he went
It would be on his head.
"That is a very nice hat!"
People said.

He had it since he was a baby,
As a cradle in which he would nap.
Not an IF, AND, or MAYBE.
He looked like a splendid old chap.

But one windy day,
His hat blew away.
He chased it down,
As it flew around the town,
While Parniferous
shouted out "HEY!!"

It zigged and it zagged,
It flipped and it flopped.
It danced through the air
On a breeze.
It stopped for a rest,
In a songbird nest,
Before it took flight,
As quick as you please.

It floated and sailed,
Through the streets of the vale,
The airborne derby,
Was something to see,
With Parniferous hot
on its tail.

When the wind died down,
The hat touched ground,
In the lap of a
Charming young lass.
"What a lovely old hat!"
She said as it sat,
And they spoke as
the time quickly passed.

His hat, as it were,
Was a favorite for her,
And she placed it
Back onto his head.

Not that much later,
For a time, he did date her,
And he wore it on
The day they were wed.

Mrs Parniferous Pirkle,
Had her own favorite hat,
Attached to a chap,
And not in her lap,
On a post it hung,
Next to their bed.


The End




Copyright David Pirkle / 2016