Like an epiphany of unexpected grace,
I find much beauty in a lovely, freckled face.
She may be Russian, she may be French,
she may live in a glen, or near a stone bench.
A work of art the master defines,
she may be a princess in one of our minds-
For I am not ashamed, I’ll freely admit,
I’d rather look at freckles, than freely submit
to a life with no spots, to a life with no form,
or no interesting patch of freckled decorum.
so far I will travel, so far will I roam
and hunt for the elusive, even far from my home,
But one day I’ll find her, and one day she’ll find me
the spotted, lovely lass for our home by the sea.
So if you don’t mind, friend, if you don’t care,
I’ll hang out my shingle, for one who looks fair.
No comments:
Post a Comment