Ten Cents Worth Poem by John Yaws

I still recall, when, as a child,
I dreamed of grown-up things.
Then after I discovered books-
My fancy did take wings.

I was one with legionnaires-
Who marched to Caesars whim:
Or pioneers at some stockade-
A warrior's charge to stem.

I dreamed of love as boys do-
But love eluded me.
I tried to tell myself ‘twas best-
That I be fancy free.

While searching near, and searching far-
I could not find the way-
That led me to true happiness,
And cannot to this day.

When asked if I were happy,
I had to think a bit-
And contemplate my feelings-
For an answer that would fit.

I'm not "unhappy" I replied-
I guess I am content-
To get ten cents worth out of life-
For every dime I've spent.