My Prized Possession

When I was young, less than ten years old,

I joined the local Boy Scouts.

They gave me a hat that I had to wear,

At least that’s what we were told.

It was khaki green from rabbit felt,

And a dent pressed into its top,

A brim as stiff as the edge of a knife,

A brown band and a buckle of gold,

It was always too big for my tiny head,

I wore it whenever I went to scouts.

But all good things come to an end,

I pursued other things instead,

Like cricket, footy, and girls.

My hat had no place,

No event where it could be worn,

So, it stayed for years under my bed.

A few years on, later in time,

I dragged it from under my bed.

The band didn’t shine,

And the dent had seen a better time.

I squashed it and washed it,

Rolled on it, and cut it,

Completely change its design,

To give me a hat I could wear all the time.

It was dirty and mean,

No resemblance to what it had been,

With slits cut in each of the sides,

Like nothing that you’ve ever seen.

Too much sun, too much rain,

Too much dust and mud all made it unclean,

But my pride and my joy, I wore that hat all the time,

Until I must have been over sixteen.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

Somewhere, it would seem the hat didn’t last , and it’s just a memory of the past.

R.I.P. Scout hat.

[Author's note: I did have a scout hat that I destroyed so it looked more like an Australian Swagman's hat (minus the corks). As the years went on, I had to cut slits on he sides to allow it to fit. It was my pride and joy until it didn't fit. I can't remember what happened to it; it must have just disintegrated.

The poem's structure is an octet, where lines 1, 4, and 8 rhyme in each stanza.

Till next time,

Calvin

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