copyright Dawn M Miller
If I Were a Poor Man
“If I were a poor man, my dear,” he said, “I would come here and imagine buying you these jewels. I would get a second job, just to buy one diamond for your beautiful, swan-like neck.”
She looked at him quizzically. “But you’re not a poor man. You just bought this mall.”
“But I want you to know that I would. Would it mean more to you if I did get a job? If I worked hard to buy you some token of my love?”
“That’s dumb. Let’s just buy some now.”
He sighed. “Fine. Pick out what you’d like.”
The Green-Walled Tower 