Cool Dad

Strutting down York Avenue, Appearing in a hurry, His face is beatific, Showing not a drop of worry. With one child in his hand grasp And another at his chest, He seems a modern father But he stands out from the rest. It isn’t for his man-bun, Rather for the clothes he wears – Not jeans or sweats or khakis, For it’s leggings earning stares. Today’s had printed donuts Looking fattening and sweet, While yesterday’s were swirled With every color you might meet. I wonder as his kids grow up If they’ll think he looks cool Or, as I perceived when others gaped, More like a kingdom’s fool.