Monday, September 19, 2011

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 ~

No comments:


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...