You wouldn’t find him on a pair
of hob-nailed boots, no he was
far too refined; nor would he be
seen in a blacksmith’s shop
being horseshoe sized-up; you
certainly wouldn’t find him labeled
penny candy in a confectioner’s
store, no sir re bob; nor in a
roofer’s bag of tricks to fix a
leaky roof – no, none of these
You would however find him
at the finest of restaurants; on
the cover of a non-tabloid
magazine; driving the finest
of cars; at a debutante ball
wearing the finest of garbs;
Always knew when to quit
drinking, would never get
hammered; and in closing
he always prided himself on
being prepared – carried with
him his last will and testament
That was in case he ever got
caught in the rain, for you see
he would rust out . . .
Copyright © 05/18/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®