Clothes Minded

Once I met a humble man
who I thought was an also-ran;
clothes were grimy, tattered, gray,
sore to the sight in light of day.

He possessed a long white beard;
I thought of Claus when he appeared.
He was wide as he was tall
within the park or at the mall.

He drove a Volkswagen Bug
filled full of kites packed pretty snug.
So appeared this unkempt guy
who put his kites into the sky.

Like a dingy fireplug,
he’d hold the string and give a tug.
Though we never talked with him,
ebon opinions sure did swim.

Then one day his car denied--
his blue Volkswagen up and died;
I then offered him a ride,
my good Samaritan applied.

Santa was my passenger
and passing judgments did occur.
But as I drove from the park
I found some light beneath the dark.

We conversed on may things,
on vitamins and cosmic strings;
politics and history,
he showed me mind ability.

We arrived where he was from,
(indeed it was within a slum);
but his house was neat and clean
with ambience in shades of green.

Yet to me his best device
was that he was so doggone nice;
gentle spirit, manner fine,
a decent chap with his own line.

Once I met a humble man
and thought the thoughts that were offhand.
But I came to understand
that clothes don’t always make the man.



[Rhythm: 7-8-7-8] (Lines: 40)
Writer’s Cramp; October 5, 2011