I have had my levis a very long time,
rips and tears, patches on patches.
25 years, of a stitch in time, saves nine,
so many different colors, nothing matches.
I love my Jeans so much,
if them, I could only touch.
There hanging behind a frame,
it's not quite the same.
I want to wear my Jeans,
I love my blue pants.
I think it's in my Genes,
or are they called trousers?
I mean, to put your legs,
into that soft velvet.
A little low riding on the hip,
bell bottoms as well as a zip.
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Comments about this poem (501 by David Darbyshire )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Bijay Kant Dubey
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
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