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.

With Regards to the Vegetables

There's a carrot growing inside our house, you see,
We think it ties the room together.
In a cup, in our kitchen,
There it sprouts the greeny green.
It should feel rather honored,
Having avoided a delicious demise.
For, in our home, there is but one rule,
That nonsense is the only sense,
That discontinuity must breed with the eclectic.
Thus was born a friend for our cast of oddities,
On Reginald, on Dennis, on Joesph and Gopher.
There's a carrot growing inside our house, you see,
We think it ties the room together.