Nice Threads, Mate
is something no one
has ever said to me,
and they probably
never will, you see,
I’m a tee-shirt kinda guy,
put on the pants
I took off last night,
can’t be bothered about
how I look, really can’t,
try as hard as I might.
I don’t focus on my looks,
just make sure to,
brush my teeth,
wash my hair.
Is that so wrong for
an old guy like me?
I mean, what’s it matter,
why should I care?
A simple approach is
the one I chose,
as my joy has nothing
to do with my clothes,
so it’s tee-shirts and chinos,
maybe shorts, for me.
They work fine.
The too-warm mornings
of summer are gone now,
but autumn still sleeps a bit,
not quite awake,
not quite ready for her big hurrah.
We are well past the solstice,
but she’s still young,
and I am satisfied to
comfortably capture bits
of breezy brilliance,
enlivened by the simple
pleasure of it all,
commonplace as it may seem,
grateful for this good day.
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