My new college roommate was a fancy woman
She brought the most interesting pieces of furniture
I had never seen such magnificence, and I told her
She laughed at my delight in her “simple things”
They were simple to her because she was an artist.
Not simple to me by any means. I was delighted and enthralled.
Loving her daisy-decorated dresser and her mermaid bed.
Creativity bounced all over the room now.
She grew up and continued to be fancy.
We grew apart, but kept in touch.
I went to visit her twenty years later.
And there was her fancy daisy-decorated dresser.
“Put it into your car,” she told me.
“You always loved it more than I did.”
I did and was ever so glad as it was our last visit.
She passed from cancer a few months later.
That was thirty years ago.
I have kept her dresser in the best shape.
Loving my memories of her.
Never forgetting her artistic flair and her generous ways.
Fancy woman in a pink sequined hat
With a feathered boa fluffy and fat,
Putting on the ritz
For a guy named Fritz
Who made money with a ball and bat
Silver and glitz,
Satin and gold,
Place oozes with joy,
A pearl-laden crowd.
Four men standing.
Grinning like half-eaten moon pies
One holy man, somber and straight.
A fancy woman walks in escorted by her son.
Three chorus girls make their descent, in matching dresses.
A little pink-laden girl with fancy petticoats prances past,
Dragging an uneager pouty boy along.
The crowd murmurs, softly.
The long anticipated song begins.
Everyone stands.
Turns.
Hoping to have a glimpse of the veil-clad princess
Who is hanging on to the suit of her father.
Not me.
I always turn and look at the groom.
That’s the real show.
Are his cheeks alcoholic red?
Does he look like he’s ready to hurl?
Or is he bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed?
Does pride ooze from his eyes as he watches his bride?
This tells me so much about what kind of
Life she will have after the
Big day.
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