You promised me the moon and stars when you professed your love.
You'd climb the highest mountain, shout it from above. Jewels, they're be no end to these. For furs I'd never pine.
The largest of the castles, these things would all be mine. Promises are precious things, but, love and youth are bliss.
I didn't need the moon and stars. We settled for a kiss. Time has passed and love has grown. Let's see, just for fun.
How many were you promises. How many have you done. The kids are stars. You're my moon in our sky of love.
The mountain is the pile of bills you keep our heads above. The jewels on my left hand. The most precious one I've seen.
If our home were any bigger I'd never keep it clean. My memory say that leaves the furs. With one I'd be content.
Our Anniversary's coming soon. But dear! I'd never hint. He said. "Happy Anniversary." and, he handed me a note.
I opened it in wonder. This is what he'd wrote. The fur has not been made to match our budget, dear.
How about another kiss? Better luck next year.

by Jane Shewmaker Hale

Other poems of JANE SHEWMAKER HALE (3)

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