Where for art thou,
My old and missing friend,
You seemed to disappear with a pow,
And I thought we'd be together until the end!
I remember when they all looked at you,
The way you filled out those old Guess jeans,
Worrying about pants staying up, not something I had to do,
Nor would it ever be in my wildest dreams.
Over the years you had shrunken down,
Often reminding me to wear a belt,
Until I realized you left, and I began to frown,
You can't imagine how that felt.
My ass, please come home to me,
You kept my jeans from hanging too low,
I promise many squats to help work on thee,
So my jeans, no lower will they go!
Dammit, all to hell,
Where's my ass!
About the Creator
Jason Morton
From fiction to reality there’s tons to share about this crazy life. From being a single father, an officer, and having had many insane adventures while I learned about the world, my imagination runs wild with ideas.
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