Pretty Woman

Running through the fields of York

Fast as I can go.

I trip. I fall. Beneath a log

Dang that brush lay low.

Get back up, dust off the dirt

It’s just a bit of blood.

Back to the car, from whence I came

First-aid beneath the hood.

I fumble with the plastic wrapper

My brow is clad with sweat.

I finally rip the package open

Infected? Yeah. I bet.

Neosporin must come first

Cleanse the wound from the inside out.

Now lay that band-aid on thick

Healing – that’s what it’s about.

Behind the wheel of my dodge again

I’m ready to head on home.

But wait, what’s this? A girl out there?

Good lord, I’m not alone!

Throw the door wide, stumble from the car,

I’m sprinting fast as I can go.

I trip. I fall. NOW I see that log.

The brush still lying low.

Gotta get up, keep moving forward

She was there a minute ago.

But now she fades, she’s gone with the wind.

I wonder…was she friend or foe?

I get up to to survey the area where she was,

I stumble a bit, but regain my footing.

As I get closer I realize it was a mirage

Enough of your horn-tooting!

Silly man, no pretty woman will gaze at you,

They don’t care about your woe.

You’re wrong, my man,

And you should have seen her face.

I know she cares. I watched her heart pace.

And this is how I know her to be friend. Not foe.