THE PRINCESS OF MONTMARTE

Pretty eyed, Mongoloid smile,

She sat atop.. the emerald shrine,

Pout of an actress, a figure sublime

Her beauty making even the most placid stoic pine

And I knew that very day,

She would never be mine.

. .

She was after all, The Princess of Montmarte,

And I was but the poor peasant,

Which no earthly possession,

Except a humble heart.

. .

One day did I

Step out of my humble home,

Mind full of desire...heart full of hope

I made my way down to the palace grounds,

Wary of marksmen and the barking hounds,

I jumped a wall and crossed a stream,

So eager was I..to fulfill my dream.

. .

I strode purposefully up to the front door,

My heart thumping like Cupid's whore,

I rang the bell, it shrieked out shrill

As the door opened, Father Time stood still,

I gazed at the ever expanding crack,

Hoping to catch a glimpse of my darling Montmarte,

The abyss widened...i gave a START..

For she who was staring at me

Was my sainted aunt!!!!!

. .

Fell outta bed .. my mind in a whirl

"It cant have been a dream", I protested...

"She is my girl.."

. .

btw..this really happened..