The Assignment: A 10 line iambic pentameter conceit poem.
His Favorite Pair of Jeans
He once compared me to a pair of jeans,
Velveteen-threadbare, torn, and faded jeans.
We were as close as clothing then, denim
Dressed and pressed against each other. Thirteen
Years my best friend. So best he could forget
The holes, the stains, the fraying edges, warm
As skin, smoothed by tears and friction. When I’m
Washed out, blue, thin and barely held together.
When seams give out and fabric tears completely,
I’ll still be his favorite pair of jeans.
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My brain was spasming from thinking so hard when I tried to do this.
Also, is the title sarcastic there? 😉
Ha! To your first comment– I’ve done my job well if your brain is getting an aerobic workout! 🙂 And to the second: Sick, I know, but I wasn’t being a bit sarcastic. I love this stuff… I guess that’s why it’s so fun to teach it!