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.
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