Favorite Shirt
By Arley Steinhour 989714

Once upon a time, I had a favorite shirt,
Wool the weave, checkered black and pink,
Long enough to also be a Scottish kilt,
Sleeved rolled three times to find my wrist, I think.

Grandma bought it at a Rummage Sale,
Where, most kids clothes would come,
Most too long, for a child built like a whale,
She would scrub, not knowing where it came from.

On dy I needed run away, subject for another tale,
From the farm twelve miles from town, and safety,
Six miles to the highway, and my resolve was getting stale,
A driver picked us up, and the miles went very swiftly.

I was ten, my brother eight, we went to find our mom,
She wasn't very happy, fearing a kidnap charge,
Called police for guidance, and they locked us in a jail Tomb,
Until the Judge could sort the problems, small, and large.

Brothers chose Grandma,, I chose to go with mother,
But both sent home with grandmother,
Mom didn't come to court, she couldn't bother,
When Grandma was done I buried my shirt with honor.

AMEN