POEM - And this pocket is full and so is this one and this has a rock in it and I brought you a note and a donut in this one I think . . .

The thing

I like

A lot

Is a good pocket

Or

In fact

Many pockets

What I like is

A plethora

A bunch

An overabundance

Of cleverly placed

Well made

Hole-less

Pockets

The only reason

I  condone

The foolish tradition

Of wearing suits

Is the jacket

That monument to pockets

With one

in the upper left quadrant

Two

In the lower front region

One

On each side

At breast level

Within

And if lucky

Another

Inside

Down low

For something extra

Pocket watch

Pen knife

Plastic wrapped mints

In my youth

My most enduring dream

Was the pocketpalooza

The Venerable Overall

I wanted them

I begged for them

On occasion

I would inherit them

From my country cousin

But I grew like a weed

And our time

Was often brief

Pocket O pocket!

Holds my stuff

Holds my treasures

Holds my mysteries

Holds my heart