The lost hat tells the tale of my hat and why I believe in its value. A hat seems like a small thing to think about. It takes little space. However, its value is heightened by its uses.
Lost Hat
A hat is only a hat, I know
But it keeps my head warm in winter
Holds away the hot sun in the summer
And the flies, and mosquitoes, rain and snow
My hair grows grey
And is sparsely spaced
Each silver strand by its self stands
Some perch on a barren field
And the wind is not always kind
I lost my hat one spring day
My search was extensive and prolonged
I knew it wouldn’t go far without me
If I had a dog he might chew or abscond with it
He would like the smells around it
Fortunately I have a spare which served the task
But not as well as my favorite lid
With holes cut for vents many moons ago
This floppy creature longs for retirement
And it timidly shudders even when no winds blow
Not much protection from wind and snow
Flies may come and go
If they were not embarrassed to do so
I wandered about and far and wide
And today I went to the library
Not in quest of a book to read
But my case to plead
I said to the fair librarian
I lost my hat
She looked and saw
To her dismay
That squarely upon my silly grey head
Sat an ignominious wretched thing
That surely must pass for a hat
The nice lady looked at the found hat
And the present citizen perched atop my domain
And solemnly handed, without a murmur
That which I had searched for
Upon my roof, I placed the old hat
And my world became brighter
That chilly spring day
