In a room, in a house, sat a hat on a shelf.
The loneliest hat in the world, feeling sorry for itself.
The shelf was where it was meant to be
But for the first time, the hat sat empty.
The wallet, the watch, the mobile phone,
The necklace, the iPod with broken earphones,
would sit inside the hat as it sat on the shelf.
But today, a hat sat empty, all by itself.
The wallet, the watch, the mobile phone,
The necklace, the iPod with broken earphones,
They had gone to work outside, to be
Useful to him. But the hat sat empty.
It was inside, alone, instead of riding high
And braving sun, rain, and things falling from the sky.
Just yesterday, the hat was invited to a party,
The party was today, but the hat sat empty.
Unwanted at home. It wasn’t thought to fit
With that kind of party, with the right outfit.
So the hat sat alone. It began to dream
Till it almost cried, but it kept a stiff brim.
“Tomorrow’s another day,” it declared,
“And he might decide to wear me on his head.”
But he didn’t. Tomorrow drifted into today
And the other things went off to play
But the hat sat alone. Alone on the shelf
It started to resent this wrong to itself.
“If he doesn’t want me, well I don’t want him!
I’ll find someone who’ll appreciate my brim!”
So it caught a gust, and it flew away
Out of the window, onto the walkway
Of the garden below, where the hat now lay
Empty but hopeful. Maybe someone would say
“Oh what a nice hat!” and pick it up from the ground,
Put it on his head and wear it around
With no small measure of joyful pride
And high on that head, the hat would ride.
The hat lay open, the sun shone high
But soon, stormclouds appeared in the sky
And the rain fell hard on the upturned hat
Which was soon filled with utmost regret.
It was soaked, it was drenched, it was dripping wet
In fact, it was losing its shape as a hat
And its hope had faded, drowned and died
And the hat was left with nothing inside.
But then, someone picked it up from the ground!
The someone was rough, shook the hat around
And said “What the hell is this doing down here?”
That voice! It was him who was so dear
To the hat. But the hat was still filled with regret
It had lost its shape from getting too wet
It had lost its stiff upper brim
It was no longer useful to him.
But he was smarter than the hat could have known
(Even though it sat on his head for so long)
He gave it a gentle handwash with soap
And the hat started to fill with hope.
Rinsed off, the hat now perched on one hand
Lo and behold, the hat started to expand
With happiness and gratitude as it dried
With heat from a hairdryer. It would have cried
But “pop!” the brim was stiff once again
And no tears are needed where there is no pain.
The hat was now as good as before,
It’s fine, it’s dandy, it’s lonely no more.
And if a day comes when it sits on the shelf,
It will simply appreciate having time for itself.
