I have this friend; a really great guy.
Always happy; always spry.
And then one day; he stopped and sighed.
His lips moved twice and his smile died.
I said "What's wrong", and I got real worried.
Until he told me of his ex who scurried.
We both got mad and it got mean.
but before we left;
nick-named his queen.
At first I listened to what he said.
But soon the swears were from both our heads.
Only now I knew what he would scoff at.
We both yelled "Down!" to
ANNA THE PROPHET.
She talked about Jesus and how he danced.
Talked about locust and took a chance.
Shocked and surprised with each worried glance.
Made strangers as fast as United States' France.
She said let's be friends and left him alone.
Still calls him for coffee by way of the phone.
And if this sounds sweet, special or kind.
Remember; works called her in before nine.
My friend is a Saint and won't turn her down.
Hurting her feelings would knock off his crown.
And when they drive by, you'll tease them for sure.
Not for a coffee nor being a queer.
For turning his head, in light of a tear.
My friend is a man. Don't be his judge.
All of his stories come with great grudge.
I know he is weak and tell him to stop it.
Not for a woman.
Anna the Prophet