Jean Poem by michael Smajda
Jean
I ask her for her name.
She said it was Jean.
She was the prettiest
Jean I ever seen.
When I told her my name
I am always called Mike,
She said it was a name
She always did like.
The more we talked
As the moon watched from above,
Little did we know,
In time, we would fall in love.
As I now look back
All the years of my life,
I thank God for lovely Jean
He chose to be my wife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/20/2024 7:31:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
