a Hot Mess

a Hot Mess

It was 1942 or 45
Miss May was just
Happy to be alive
She kissed a sailor
That lived to tell
But never knew
The anonymous hell
And the seed grew into
A little darling girl who
Got the name of Bell
And she’d ring-a-ding
On her pink Schwinn bike
And then in 1966 fell into
The summer and love
And Bobby- he gave her
A diamond ring and
In a church they sang
And Momma was happy
And she sang along with
The man Bell knew as Dad
And whether or not, well,
She was glad he was kind
And Momma always smiled
So that day turned to night
And as wedding nights go
The band played on and on
And fine champagne flowed
Then came the time for bed
He laid her down & said, “Ill
Always love you” and he did
And that night bore fruit that
Came so sweet and was just
The beginning of a life of good
Winnings and just so rightly so
The middle child she was wild
And in her early twenties -in the
Twenty First Century- although
It’s a little tough on us all, wow,
She makes me smile when I look
At her and with her eyes she smiles
And says what a hot mess she is and
She is. What a hot mess she always is

Written May 23, 2009

Best of the Roses,

John French

mystrawhat.com

&

theneweverydaymedia