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Poem

I see it more and more as Fall comes in,
the fabric fears not the chill or wind,
often brushed and soft, like a blanket’s grasp,
and for many years a good one with last.
Whether it be Black Watch or Buffalo Check,
there’re a thousand patterns, what will be next?
I think when it all is said and done,
that flannel is truly made of awesome.

Be it expensive or sewn with no thrills,
I find it much nicer then wearing twill,
whether it is cotton or old-school wool,
it keeps cold out, and that’s no bull.
Warming lumberjacks in the forests gloom,
or Hipsters who make you pray for doom,
the nineties music scene would come undone,
without that flannel, made of awesome.

You can layer it against winter’s bite,
wear it alone on cool summer nights,
in Autumn it is our uniform,
but it’s not just shirts, it is so much more.
As a soft blanket, or a thermal sheet,
it protects well against chilly feet,
line your jeans with it and winter is won,
thanks to that flannel, made of awesome.

Inside your slippers or a heavy coat,
on frost-touched mountains or foliage boats,
in a hunter’s kits, animals to fool,
or rich folk who want ‘working-class cool,’
worn by poor souls just fighting the cold,
be it classic plain, or so loud and bold,
as a fabric it is second-to-none,
'cause flannel is truly made of awesome.

And cotton. Awesomeness and a whole lot of cotton.

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