I took a dozen red roses on Valentine's Day.
To a foxy wild young lady,
Hoping she'd take in a stray,
She has been just a few red doors away…
Just; a few red doors away.
I wanted her to cut her fine manicured fingers
I wanted her to break her hails her claws...
I wanted her to pluck out all my own, bleeding thorns.
And whisper down into my soul and say, baby, you're a keeper.
But she was a drinker
But she was drinking Absinthe at home alone
And she said, who the hell - are you!
Have you come here to drink out of my glass slipper?
My shoe, who the hell - are you - this isn't your home!
Then she too reminded me I only felt stoic strong…
If I too was drinking Absinthe at home alone
And she reminded me I only felt happy
Lying on my back; feeling empty, smelling of some old cologne.
…At the bottom of my sack.
So, I turned to take a dozen red roses on Valentine's Day back.
And as I turned to be on my way
She said boy come on back here you look like a stray
And I need a lay…
She was a foxy wild young lady,
I was hoping she'd take in a stray,
She has been just a few red doors away…
Just; a few red doors away.
I wanted her to cut her fine manicured fingers
I wanted her to break her hails her claws…
I wanted her to pluck out all my own, bleeding thorns.
And whisper down into my soul and say, baby, you're a keeper.
She was a drinker
She was drinking Absinthe at home but no longer alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem