He loves himself
From the top to the bottom of his coffee cup
He loves himself
A middle-aged man in denim shorts tight,
No shirt on his chest, he feels just right.
His belly hangs low, but he walks with a sway,
Thinking he’s hot stuff, come what may.
His skin is a map of the sun’s harsh embrace,
With a smirk on his lips and a swagger in place.
He struts through the streets like a man on a throne,
Unaware that his youth has long since flown.
His shorts are frayed, his confidence bold,
A legend in his own mind, or so he’s told.
With every glance in the window, he grins,
Ignoring the years as his vanity spins.
But beneath that bravado, the truth’s hard to hide,
He’s a middle-aged man with no place to confide.
Still, he holds on to the heat of the show,
A king in his mind, In love with himself so.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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