His Little Country Girl
I couldn’t help but notice
the way she wore her hair.
She always wore a ponytail,
she never seemed to care.
Sometimes she’d wear a hat,
John Deere cap she’d prefer.
And if the boys didn’t like it,
they definately weren’t for her.
She had that summer tan,
that every girl would die for.
Oh, the way the sun would glisten
on her skin out on the front porch.
She never wanted anything else
but to wear her cowgirl boots.
They showed her dignity and pride,
no high—heels or tennis shoes.
Every Friday night,
she’d go out with her country boy.
She called him her soul mate.
Others called him a boy toy.
Her place was the middle seat
in his old jacked up truck.
She loved it when they’d go muddin’,
even when they got stuck.
He’d kiss her under the stars,
and they’d dance in a corn field.
People said they wouldn’t last,
but they said, “Yes, it will.”
She was his tan Juliet,
he was her redneck Romeo.
She knew without a doubt,
she’d always be his to hold.
Now, there elsewhere.
Lovin’ theirselves away.
And the only thought that crosses his mind,
she’s always going to stay.
And in his arms she’ll always be,
his little country girl.
I wrote this poem in reference to me and my boyfriend. He always calls me beautiful, and his little country girl. He is as sweet as can be and he encourages me to be my best. I figured I'd throw one of my favorite creations out into the world to allow other readers and poets to take a taste of what has become of my poetic ability and my everyday life. Thank you for reading my poem.
