Daddy’s Felt Hat

The hat of felt my daddy wore was bent
around the edges of its sweat-soaked brim;
my daddy wore it everywhere he went.
I keep it now in memory of him.
Inside a box it sits on closet shelf.
I often think I should discard it now,
and yet I simply cannot bring myself
to throw away the hat he wore to plow.
My daddy’s strength, his heart, his steel-blue eyes
made straight my path and edged my walk with pride
and gave me hope beneath bright sun-filled skies,
gray-dimmed and damp the day my daddy died.
    The hat of rich worn felt looks out-of-place
    away from daddy’s deep-lined, humble face. 

c Copyright 2012, Freeda Baker Nichols

This Shakespearean sonnet is one of my favorites.

8 comments on “Daddy’s Felt Hat

  1. What a beautiful memory. I remember those hats. I reviewed the most wonderful PB story about a hat on my blog and the journey the hat takes after a taylor makes it — A Happy Hat by Cecil Kim.

    Like

  2. Reblogged this on Freeda Baker Nichols and commented:

    I’d like to reblog this poem, and add the photo of my dad with my three brothers.

    Like

  3. Tammy says:

    Mom,

    I can see Grandpa and his felt hat. Love the poem!

    Tammy

    Like

  4. Dorothy Johnson says:

    Sweet. I have one of my Dad’s hats, too; although his was a different style.
    I totally understand!

    Like

  5. Dot Hatfield says:

    I like this, Freeda. The sonnet is one of my favorites, too.

    Like

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