Trusting

I was about eight years old at the time,
When I found twenty-five dollars on the street.
I thought I was rich if I had a dime,
But now I was at no mans discrete.

The first thing I thought of was a model car,
with a big blown engine and everything.
But at that rate my money would go far,
so I decided to throw a real fling.

I peddled hastily to the closest drug store,
and ate as much ice cream as I could hold.
People asked what the celebration was for,
I told them I'd just struck gold.

Then I went a couple streets over to see Fred,
the man who sells paint and stuff like that.
I couldn't decide between candy green or candy red,
But I ended up with red, "because that's where it's at."

When mom found out how much money I had,
she didn't believe I'd found that much.
I assured her I hadn't been bad,
and explained to her how I'd run across it and such.

That was one of the best weeks of my life,
now that I look back when...
There was a very little amount of strife.
I wish I knew you then.


(Written in high school in the early 60's)