Ode to Short Pants

Listen:

My shorts,

Mottled brown and well-worn,

Attempt escape.

Quite often indeed,

They flee,

My curvaceous rear.

But, they sag not due to a withering waistline.

Hoo ha!

Seems to me,

They rebut my butt.

Creating distance,

Each comfort laden day.

Flexing, forming and flawing,

As none foresaw for fabric.

Yet every stain and rend,

Each befoulment,

Bring them closer to me.

O cut-off garment!

The scourge of denim,

Racing hastily to a hem.

O short pants!

For me,

To declare to thee,

That I am endebtted,

To thee.

Might be,

A lofty decree.

And as that may be,

I nevertheless submit

My heartfelt and sincere gratitude,

For being all that you may be.