Jean Clarke My Golden Armor
Poem By CHRISTOPHER ROBERT
Is this a war in the past?
Is this a heart challenge?
Or a mind battle of emotional hustle,
Hustling for the reality of true love
With Bows and Arrows I have fought for true love,
Along the street of Houston Amidst birds of roses and passage,
Beautiful birds of shinning wings but with sharp claws ready to devour
Oh what a pity as many men's face will be sharpened black with those claws,
And their gentle heart scattered along crooked road of gallops holes.
Down in those parts I have ridden for decade unending,
And yet was the war in it very beginning,
Oh my gentle heart when shall this love war end,
When shall you behold your golden armor?
That would shield you until the breath of life is taken from you.
In answer I hear a call down from the street of England,
Oh what a mind man you are,
What a chocked heart have you possess
Low and timid, love never fails,
I am Jean Clarke calling and echoing from my string note
Come hold my hands and let me be your golden armor,
Let me be the morning and night for you,
Let me write your name in the lines of my heart
That even death cannot erase.
Looking into her note I could see my future,
From her gaze I could see my tomorrow,
I could see my ridding getting to an end,
I see a finish line to a war of many years,
My golden armor equipped with materials of the British pride
Hold my hands I said,
Hold my hands and don't let me fall,
Hold me tight,
That I should forget the days of yesterdays
And only think of tomorrow,
That wallows in the hollow of our dream future,
A life that only Jean and Chris will kiss each other's lips
A life that we'll both dance to strings of beds note and moan deal,
A string that would end our pains for life,
A secured life that I have hoped to live under the golden armor of my lovely Jean