The dungarees I used to wear
Were Levis, Wranglers, Lees;
There were no upscale denims then,
With fancy pedigrees.
They hugged my hips and fit real snug,
With bottoms flared like bells.
I wore them ‘til the hems were frayed
And then said my farewells.
Today I cleaned a closet, finding
Jeans in every shade –
Light ones, stonewashed, dusky blue,
Enough for a parade.
Some are baggy, others tight;
Most have legs quite straight.
Several hit the thrift store pile,
Sorely out of date.
As I tried them on, I thought,
I wish that I had kept
Just one old pair of dungarees
From days gone by, except…
You cannot resurrect the past,
So what would be my goal?
The girl who wore those Levis out
Was strictly rock and roll.
I still love rock but also jazz
And Mozart, I admit;
And sad to say, my current jeans
Seem like a better fit.