Eight-line Poems

Corduroy

Corduroy

My nemesis of the fifties,
corduroy trousers, beloved of my mother,
and I, forced to endure their heavy,
cloying embrace, trapped within
the prison of stultifying uncoolness,
ever awkward and old fashioned.
Rebelling in the sixties,
I deserted to denim forever.


Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 07.03.21
Prompt: Tell us about something your mother made you do that you disliked.