Photo by Héctor J. Rivas on Unsplash
One day the world be controlled by flying hats,
Like in Alladin,
Plump and out of control,
Twisting our perception of flight once more,
Will it be worth it to wear them,
In the doggy capital of the world,
Floating on a vagabond, with a whistle in hand,
Great fedoras anyways,
Coming out in combat force,
As ages of old,
Continue to torture the designers,
As they sit with their thinking caps on,
Have the fields of the yellow ribbons,
Cross-pollinated,
Different directions of the wind,
Their rule of thumb preludes us,
What will they think of next,
It is unknown to us all.
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