Super Fly

From head to toe, He could win any fashion show. Confident in his stride, Clean on the outside, Crisp is how he keeps his clothes. With felted hat fit to size, Ladies can’t help but to upon him fix their eyes. And the brothas, enviously and erroneously coping his gait, He laughs at them as they perpetrate. Too cool for a cane, With long thick hair he walks as king, proud of his mane. Even his crockadile books match his pin-striped suits. Style is clearly embedded in his roots. Predating the culture of swagger, This man here is my father. (In memory of my father, Donald O. Varner)