(in memory of my grandmother who wore sensible shoes and outrageous hats she made by hand)
Hat maker, hat maker,
Please make me a hat,
Take some of this
and take some of that.
A white rose from a dance that never took place,
delicate baby's breath or ragged black lace,
broken ocean shells from the sea,
even fragile red leaves, still on a tree.
Add a bluesy ribbon or buttons of old,
Sew them in silver or sew them in gold,
Then add feathers and fine dark bones,
an extra small poem in a baby food jar,
paper cranes folded orange for peace afar.
Protect me from the sunlight
or too many onlookers.
Help me blend in with funeral hats
or a flock of cheap, tired, sad hookers.
Hat maker, hat maker,
Please make me a hat,
bestow it with kindness but don't make it too pretty.
Please help me keep honest, funny, forgiving,
and when it is possible, perhaps a bit witty.