Feb 9, 2009
The Pale Grey Coat.
Bossy walked through her house
And she saw nothing odd
Just dog hair and dust
Collecting! Oh gahhhh-d.
She was deep in her thoughts
When, suddenly, she spied it.
She saw the pale grey ski coat
With nobody inside it.
She wasn’t scared. But yet, she stopped
Why would a coat be there?
Why would the coat of Bossy’s son
Be sitting in the chair?
And then it moved
That empty coat
It flipped the magazine
The coat was resting near the fire
It was really quite serene.
“Why are you here?”
Old Bossy said,
“And not in New York City?
Lord knows you’d warm dear Bossy’s son
Even though you’re not that pretty.”
Just then the pale grey ski coat
Threw down the Martha Stewart
It swished past Bossy in a huff
On its way to find support.
The coat, it snuggled with the Dane
In the cluttered family room
It seemed depressed, that pale grey coat
One pound of down-filled gloom.
“How ‘bout TV?” Bossy suggested
“You can watch your favorite show.
Barefoot Contessa is almost on!”
But the coat shook itself no.
“How ‘bout a romp on Bossy’s site?
Last post is mighty clever!”
But the pale grey coat slumped in its chair
Not cheery whatsoever.
Bossy thought fresh air would do it good
So she tossed the keys to her car
Forgetting the coat can’t drive a stick
So, alas, it didn’t go far.
“That’s OK,” Bossy said, “Remember the swing?
You spent many a day and a night there!”
But the allure was gone on that old plank of wood
Without a warm body to share.
So the coat, it propelled, up to the porch,
Grabbed a chair for a sun-drenched sit
But the scene was too quiet for a pale grey coat
With nobody inside it.
Bossy thought, “I do not fear this coat,
With nobody inside it. This coat, it doesn’t make me sad.”
She thought that, but she lied it.
Because Bossy couldn’t see this coat
Without thinking of her son
And the many years he had this on
While setting off toward fun.
“Bossy thinks she knows why you are blue,”
Bossy whispered to the coat.
“You miss your boy, and so do we,
We’re rocking the same boat.”
And then a strange thing happened.
Why, that coat began to laugh!
Of course it didn’t really,
But Bossy did on its behalf.
And then she put her arm around
That nylon stuffed with feathers
And said, “What if Bossy puts you on
Throughout this winter weather?”
Well, ski coat was so happy that
The pale began to shine
And it pounded on those pads with sticks
Like its boy did for drum line.
And that night it rested soundly
In the bed of Bossy’s son
‘Cause of course it’s not a pea coat
And its status was hard won.
Now Bossy and the coat meet daily
Behind the closet door
Where she’ll throw it over shoulders
So the two can bond some more.