Little hat. In the heart of a golden, towering flat, Stood President Trump in a comical hat— A dainty thing, on top of his dew. He strutted out with a confident grin, As if unaware of the silk under-chin. The world looked on, unsure what to say— Was this a statement? A bold jewish look? Reporters blinked, the cameras rolled, While Twitter exploded in memes uncontrolled. But Trump just smiled, giving no cares, Tipping his hat as he climbed the stairs. "Style," he declared, "is what I define. This hat? It’s terrific, completely divine." He waved to the crowd with theatrical flair, While the wind flipped the brim, ruffling his hair. Some laughed in glee, some cried in dismay, As the hat stole the show that peculiar day. But love him or loathe him, none could forget— The moment Trump wore his most daring yet.