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®