How could I not
Remember,
Fate had chose
November,
To death encumber
Exiguous shoulders,
And suffer weight
Of lamentable state,
With words inapt
In witless pap,
For just departed father
So long ago that November,
A then boy would remember!
ode to 39 year old father
He wore the hat
To dress his head,
And tit for tat
He wares it now
To hide pilus dead,
Or gone so thin,
It fails be coaxed
To grow back in,
Thus pate regrets
That bushy hair
Of peacock fame,
Held chose delimit
Its germinal game,
Evoking sad recall
Of his departed mane!
Poetry on a canapé 