He loves himself
From the top to the bottom of his coffee cup
He loves himself
A middle-aged man in denim shorts tight,
No shirt on his chest, he feels just right.
His belly hangs low, but he walks with a sway,
Thinking he’s hot stuff, come what may.
His skin is a map of the sun’s harsh embrace,
With a smirk on his lips and a swagger in place.
He struts through the streets like a man on a throne,
Unaware that his youth has long since flown.
His shorts are frayed, his confidence bold,
A legend in his own mind, or so he’s told.
With every glance in the window, he grins,
Ignoring the years as his vanity spins.
But beneath that bravado, the truth’s hard to hide,
He’s a middle-aged man with no place to confide.
Still, he holds on to the heat of the show,
A king in his mind, In love with himself so.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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