Pockets

“Why did God make pockets?!” I heard my mother say,

While cleaning out the treasures in my jeans on laundry day.

I thought it kinda silly that my mother couldn’t see,

The reason God made pockets was just for boys like me.

A boy has got to have a place to keep important stuff,

Like bits of useful string and some dandelion fluff.

Or a feather with a tip so white it’s gotta be an eagle’s!

(Although my brother says he thinks it’s probably a seagull’s).

A pocket is the spot to keep the T-Rex bones I found,

When digging up the earthworms that were sleeping underground.

Someday I’ll be famous in the world of explorations,

Because of all things I found on my backyard excavations.

Once I found a diamond with a pretty yellow gleam,

And a fuzzy caterpillar that made my sister scream.

Then I caught a bumblebee that only had one wing,

If only I had known he hadn’t also lost his sting!

Every rock I find is different so I have to keep them all,

Along with all the leaves that turn so pretty in the fall.

And just in case I forget one thing or the other,

I stick it in my pocket so I can show my mother.

Why did God make pockets?  My mother likes to say,

When she turns out my pockets and something crawls away.

So why did God make pockets?  I think it’s plain to see,

The reason God made pockets was just for boys like me.