Old Blue Jeans

Somehow when days are filled with stress
I find that it often helps to dress
In something comfortable to wear
Like my oldest most worn out pair
Of frayed and faded blue jeans
They’re torn and pulled at the seams
But still when I pull them on my legs
The pressure melts from the days
Of deadlines, memos, expectations
Supervisors condemnations
Perhaps it’s simply how they fit
Whether I clean the house or sit
Watching shows that entertain me
Picking at the hole around my knee
Sipping black coffee hot and steamy
Imagining places more dreamy
Than the drudgery of modern life
Seems like little more than strife
Yet my old blue jeans remind me still
That life can be adventure, a thrill
So I’ll wear them, and wear them again
Because the real journey has yet to begin

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