At the Ironing Board

Ruth M Kemper

When I was young and in my teens
I disapproved of boys in jeans
I didn't like civilian clothing:
I greeted civvy dates with loathing.
I thought that uniforms were best,
And tried to date the men who dressed
In khakis, blues, or whites, or greens,
And, boy, I loved to date Marines!
Still, even Army's somber tones
Impressed my trembling teen-age bones.
But most of all, I thought that sailors
Were a tribute to their tailors,
And when I wed, as many do,
I'd pick a man in Navy blue.

How ignorance is steeped in bliss!
How eagerly I longed for this!
Oh, happy, happy days of joy
Before I met that sailor boy,
Whose whites did gleam like shining armor,
Who stole my heart, the well-fit charmer
Those uniforms that filled my dreaming
Still do, but now they leave me screaming,
For all the balmy summer nights
I curse and groan, and iron whites.
And winter dawns with rosy hues
Find me drearily pressing blues.
And now my son is dressed in jeans,
Unironed, wrinkled, lovely jeans.

Last preventive maintenance on this page December 30, 2005.