Hat Poem by Steve Howard
Hat
You pull into the parking lot.
Day is steamy, day is hot.
Then you catch that pungent scent,
a diaper full, fresh from the vent.
The parents and now empty spawn,
have lent their load, and now they're gone.
If there were justice on this earth,
if I could get ny moneys worth;
I'd go to where this bunch are at,
and have them wear this for a hat.
Sunday, August 2, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: humour
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8/6/2025 8:57:26 PM # 1.0.0
