by Amos Daniel Vuille
It’s crazy how I’m still able to wear it, that “polo”
The short sleeves used to go all the way to my elbow
Now they stop halfway there, and I want you to know
That I remember how we never had enough,
Hitting golf balls onto the fairway, sometimes the rough
I know I was often complaining, it must have been tough
There were rainy days, which I do not remember
But there were beautiful days, which I do
And they were just like my polo: white and blue
I know it might look mundane to others, or even to you?
Who even dared to ask if I remember
To which I responded “Of course I do, don’t you?”
And with one look only, I knew
You did remember all those things too.