“Why did God make pockets?!” I heard my mother say,
While cleaning out the treasures in my jeans on laundry day.
I thought it kinda silly that my mother couldn’t see,
The reason God made pockets was just for boys like me.
A boy has got to have a place to keep important stuff,
Like bits of useful string and some dandelion fluff.
Or a feather with a tip so white it’s gotta be an eagle’s!
(Although my brother says he thinks it’s probably a seagull’s).
A pocket is the spot to keep the T-Rex bones I found,
When digging up the earthworms that were sleeping underground.
Someday I’ll be famous in the world of explorations,
Because of all things I found on my backyard excavations.
Once I found a diamond with a pretty yellow gleam,
And a fuzzy caterpillar that made my sister scream.
Then I caught a bumblebee that only had one wing,
If only I had known he hadn’t also lost his sting!
Every rock I find is different so I have to keep them all,
Along with all the leaves that turn so pretty in the fall.
And just in case I forget one thing or the other,
I stick it in my pocket so I can show my mother.
Why did God make pockets? My mother likes to say,
When she turns out my pockets and something crawls away.
So why did God make pockets? I think it’s plain to see,
The reason God made pockets was just for boys like me.
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