Frank the Foreigner

Frank the Foreigner

The day I had my first slow dance
Was at a summer joll in France
With sweaty palms and sparkly eyes
We swirled and swayed under blue skies

But, after twelve, all went downhill
Chase said, "Just strollin' to the mill."
Beneath a shifting wooden arm
Was Stacey with her shiny balm

Now this flat mountain I should climb
Is not gentle or fresh or lime
I wanna know what real love is
I wanna feel what real love is

Eventually, I said, "I do"
To a gorgeous druggie - who knew?!
I worked to the bone to pay rent
On flying cows, our money went...

One fine day I read about Christ
Was I lost and my small heart iced?
He saw me lying in the sand
I looked at Him and took His Hand

I like being so new and free
Learning that I'm free to be me
I believe I know Who Love is
I believe I sense Who Love is

Sad souls should be left to cry
If Jesus loves me, so should I
Obviously, I deserve more
Than ol' Frank passed out on the floor

Pictures of him and Mary Jane
Showed his arguements were in vain
I then chose a cute, seaside flat
And chilled with Tom my dear cat

Through clouds I can see sparkling light
If life grows cold, I'll be alright
I finally know Who Love is
I finally feel Who Love is


© 2013 Amy N.J.

White Shrubs in the Dawn

White Shrubs in the Dawn

I skip to that yard on this summer's day

A thick, moist mist environs my walkway
The corners are filled with young peonies
The center is used by grazing bunnies

Quickly a forceful smell leaves from the breeze

The scent tickles my nose and makes me sneeze
Stretched 'round the narrow, stone path is this hedge
Excitedly, I study from a ledge

The small petals are not much of an art

But pure corolla are close at the heart
The hundreds of clusters adorn the green
With a strikingly white and snowy gleam!

Ending a stroll 'round the wonder therein
Then jocundly tread back to my jasmine
Their blinding front became sketchy and mild
They now want to sleep, like owls in the wild

This organism that is rich in oils

Is glad and pretty above its dark soils
They drew me near with their open faces
Although I must stroll back with small paces.

© 2013 Amy N.J.