Email Poem

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Poem

There is a young woman I met near Times Square;
She's five-foot-eleven with lovely brown hair.
We were both buying tickets at the kiosk that's there
For a show at the Palace that starred Richard Gere.

So she told me she dances, but that landing a gig
There on Broadway's not easy; Competition is big.
And she moves through the crowds with a natural grace;
Watching her's such a pleasure that I must hide my face.

But her style, you know, can scarcely compare
To those twinkle-ing eyes, and what they hold there.
It's to bask in her presence that's the purest of joy;
And I feel like nothing but a lost little boy.

But my feelings for her are not puppy love
Though she seems like an angel sent from above.
But, alas, I'm a pauper, who can't pay the rent
And she merits a man who's much more like a gent.

So I'll have to be happy with watching her dance;
As a husband with family I haven't a chance.
If I only foresaw that I'd meet her one day
My own life would have gone a much different way.

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