Thursday, April 12, 2007

My Hat

Rumpled and black,
Lines run,
Scramble,
Twist and turn amongst one another,
For the sake of aesthetic pleasure.

Form and function coalesced,
In a convenient sun-shading brim,

Warm,

A soft warmth like a puppy's fur,
Like the love of a close friend.

My head is encased in hope.

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