She searches thru her closet,
For the clothes she used to wear,
Tight pants and low cut blouses,
With the shoulders almost bare.

She wants to take a step back,
Take a journey back in time,
She bought a white convertible,
It, too, is past it's prime.

The clothes are worn, a bit too tight,
The mustang's not the newest,
The smiles and whistles that she gets,
She knows are not the truest.

But for awhile, she's young again,
And catching young men's eyes,
And not the least bit worried that,
They are but courteous lies.

A momentary fantasy,
A long forgotten dream,
Becomes this moment's pleasure,
For a moment... she's eighteen.

With ponytails and handsome guys,
Burgers, fries and cherry pies,
And for awhile she smiles again,
For life was so much simpler then.

But much too soon, the trip must end,
Stress will return, the past descend,
Reality will rear it's head,
And corral her mustang thoroughbred.

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