Savannah's Eyes
"I was 17 when I wrote this. PLEASE forgive the Genesis reference. For Nicole." -- DJG
Traveling up north, I think it might be cold.
To release all tension, I let the
Greeting card fold.
I brush it off like a dragonfly.
A subtle move like a young child’s lie.
But she looks at me with an intelligent “Why?”
I have no reply looking into Savannah’s eyes.
Ooo. It seems to be a very calm ride.
Please bring me that fruity bowl of delight.
I never thought that this could feel so good.
But it’s so fragile like balsa wood
And I truly believed I have discovered
The loot but it’s not the prize,
Looking into Savannah’s eyes.
Ooo. The trumpets begin to sound.
Ooo. She takes me by the pound.
But what kind of fool am I
To believe in her unusual ways?
Just let the little baby play.
Ooo. It could be that our love is blind.
Maybe that’s because we have Georgia
On our minds.
Pretty soon, we’ll be arriving home,
Where we can speak in familiar tones,
Examine the layout of the cones and
Make a compromise,
Looking into Savannah’s eyes.
©1998
