DADDY'S HAT

It was old gray felt; not worth much.
The band was stained and frayed.
I don't know where he got the thing;
Or what price he had paid.

On Easter we would stuff it full
Of grass and colored eggs..
And hide it in the wash machine..
Or neath the table legs.

He wore it on the wintry days.
He wore it in the fall.
He even wore it when it rained,
Or when he went to call.

Sometimes we'd play a joke on him
And place it on the bed.
His voice would make the rafters ring..
"Bad Luck! Bad Luck!" he said.

Though dad's been gone for many years
My memories are still intact...
And never will I think of him
Without that old felt hat.

Copyright © 1965 Carol Bouche' Ottlinger