Right at the top of the tip top stair
Sat little Joanne in a comfy chair.
So long had she clung to her loveless snare
That she quite forgot, in fact, it was there.
The folds of the chair were quite warm, she’d admit
And when she’d remember that “loveless” bit
She’s look around at her chair and smile,
“Perhaps I should wait again for a while.”
Then along came a fellow, quite handsome and bright,
Who asked her to dance and be gone for the night.
“But what about filling the tip top stair?
And what about comfy awaiting here there? ”
The fellow, named Patrick, just stuck out his hand,
And asked her to dance in a far off land.
And so she left comfy to enjoin the dance,
And finally find at the end true romance.
And what has become of the tip top stair?
And the lovely soft place awaiting her there?
The chair lies as empty as empty can be,
And Joanne is laughing and loving with glee.
- Joanne West,01/23/04
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem