Something About This French


He moves fast he talks slow

His voice echoes through the window

Time well spent not much with me

Two days such fun company


There’s something about this French

Even if his shirt be drenched

We were hot I offered water

You refused I’m left to wonder


Something about this French

When he sang a song in French

There’s no word I can just utter

When I do I could just stutter


What’s that “something” I don’t know

Something moves you and you go

Touching lives you may not know

Mem’ries grow because you sow


You’re in France, but I am here

We are friends, but I don’t hear

If you’re reading this go away! <embarrassed>

If you won’t then come back and stay.




This entry was published on March 8, 2014 at 9:04 AM. It’s filed under poems and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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