Dreams and Jeans

Grown-up girls with silken curls Dream hazily of yesteryear

When little boys, smitten, green

Pledged devotion to their queen.

Content with dress-up and pretend meals

And play money that paid the bills

How idyllic, how divine

The future settled, his and mine.

Then along came Betsy intent on sweets

Looking for something good to eat

With pouts and preens she took him away

Sampling devotion I'd thought would stay.

I would have died if there'd been time

But in my pocket I felt a dime

So off I went to buy ice cream

Vanilla, you know, with a swirl of crème.

And then a thought came to my mind

Devotion is fickle and not worth a dime

But thank goodness for dimes in jeans

They save the day from broken dreams.

Marie Hunter Atwood

The Perception of Beauty

Out West