She Is French

She was French
without being continental;
without language.

She was French
the Channel could not part us
our hands clasped often.

She was French
She'll ne'er be forgotten
she was all mine

for a while;

She was French
without being, well, y'know.
And she loved me...

She is French
still;
I love her
still;

She is French...

tcmoon 2012
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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