827-R-US

I met a wonderful girl, Her hair a flowing gold, I was always subtle, And she was always bold, Her eyes as milky saucers, Her breasts a perky sight, Our minds intertwined, Much to my delight, She wore an orange dress, With a new sense of grace, One would think she had no stress, From that look upon her face, We laughed as children, On an autumn day, She lightly grasped me, And then went away, I called my angel’s name, As I ran to her, I saw with much surprise, That my speech began to slur, She turned around, With her face in demise, I saw the boldness, Run from her eyes, I ran closer and closer, As fast as I could, I wanted to tell her, That I understood, She let go of another hand, And collapsed to the ground, She looked up at me, And tears dribbled down, I knew the other hand, All too well, it seemed. It was a policewoman, Who was ugly and mean. She took my love away, On a prison bus, I will never forget you, Prisoner 827-R-US