Delicious

I dreamed I was some where—
Smell of flapjacks in the air,
A bit of fence to mend,
A frisky dog for friend.

Then clang and clang of bell,
“Come and get it!” she does yell,
And the sun climbs up the rock
And it’s only seven o’clock.

The sky is wide, the town’s not far—
A glittering, man-made, fresh new star.
There’s nothing here but full content,
Cause we’ve our own self-government.

Then she, she opens wide the door
And leaps with greasy fingers for—
Me, who am astonished so,
I cannot think to let her go.
But after kisses one and two
Say, “Hey, what’s up with you?”
She tells me ’bout a job she’s got,
A little project going hot.
“Well first you better wash those hands
And start off clean for your dream’s demands.”

She’s in, she’s out, leaps to her horse,
And off she flies on her happy course!
My glad-with-purpose woman makes my day.
These flapjacks are delicious, by the way.

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