A Tale of Two Hats
My wife made me a hat.
She knit it during cold winter nights
while I read or O'Reilly bloviated,
her hands moving over the wool
like a cloistered nun's over rosary beads.
It fit too snug, pinching the vein
that supplies blood to the ears.
She bought me a new one.
It's warm and comfortable
and carries a Walmart tag.
I still wear her hat.
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