I first met her when I was a child
Her name was Country
Last name Music.
It was awkward at first, I called her names and made fun of her.
As all little boys do with women they
Another female stepped in
Rock and her younger sister
They wooed my affections
Catering to my need for power ballads and kick butt guitar solos.
There were other women who made a play for my attention.
And finally Hip-Hop.
Everyone said hip hop and I were better suited for each other.
It “looked good on paper” and would bring less awkward stares from people.
Besides, intermusical relationships would be hard to maintain.
Yet, like that kid in your 8th grade class you see as an adult
All grown up and looking rather…delicious
I was re-introduced to country by a mutual friend.
Her stories, oh how I loved her stories.
About real life, love, lost
Smiles bitter twilight into night
This “Whiskey Lullaby” you sang to me
Stirred up old feelings I thought long faded.
“Country”, I told her, “I don’t think I fit the traditional mold”
For I don’t drive a
Or dance in lines or…
She told me that is only a stereotype.
She assured me she would accept me for who I am
If I do likewise.
So we are taking things slow.
Not rushing into anything serious, yet.
We’re enjoying life and having fun
As these sort of things ought to be.
[Poem #12 of 30. Image by LiLauraLu via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.]