First Love

He stands outside my window

throwing pebbles at each pain,

he waits for my arrival

now calling out my name.

He's someone I not know quite yet

but given one the chance,

I'd like to know much more of him

for I heard he comes from France.

My parents think I'm much to young

for such a boys advance,

but if I play my cards just right

he'll ask me to the dance.

It's really not a dance you see

but a debutante style ball,

being introduced into society

in Englands Manor Hall.

I've heard the French know how to love

and that's what interests me,

I want a man who's brave and strong

who's crossed the great North Sea.

I am a lady that's for sure 

my honor stands for all,

yet if he took me to this dance

I'd sneak him down the hall.

Off to a room where we'd be one

intwined in each ones arms,

to touch and feel ones tenderness

his French ways such a charm.

I'm much to young to marry

my parents tell me so,

yet I envision he and I

in a humble French Chateau.

I know the love I have for him

will never go away,

I'll dream of us together

planning for our wedding day.

                                                                       by Barbara Morey ~