She’s in her head again
blaming all the world’s stones
thrown at her on herself.

Oh baby, don’t you see, your
the beautiful one, the innocent
girl seeking that life all the
others have long
stopped looking for.

Your head is wonderfully in the clouds
It’s all of them who long ago lost
their wings while you continued to sing.

You are something else,
that special mix, that sweet sauce,
that kick, that love that keeps
giving, that sultry smile that drives
me to my knees.

You’ll get there baby girl.
And I’ll hold your hand until
You do.

By Philip Wardlow 2018