Ode To Amy Jo

Amy Jo went out to walk.
It was a sunny day.
As she walked she met
a handsome man along the way.
He told her that he lived nearby
but said he couldn’t stay.
They walked and walked,
and talked and talked
then he went on his way.

As Amy Jo walked home she thought
about this handsome guy;
his wavy hair, his perfect smile,
the twinkle in his eyes,
his manly form, his rugged arms,
his manner, oh so mild.
She hungered to see more of him
but she was just a child.

Well, not a child but a teen,
not a kid, just sweet sixteen,
not completely grown, but seen
as a child, though in between.

Amy Jo went into town
hoping there to meet
this man who told her that he worked
in a shop on Market Street.
Amy went into the shop
but he was not around.
A woman told her he was gone,
he left that quiet town.
The woman talked to Amy Jo
and told her that she should
forget about the handsome man
for he was not so good.
But Amy Jo, persistent, found
she missed him by a day.
He bought himself an old T-Bird
and left for Tampa Bay.

She wasn’t a child, she was a teen,
not a kid but sweet sixteen,
not completely grown but seen
as a child, though in between.

Amy Jo walked home, so sad,
thinking of a plan;
a way to see him once again,
this blue-eyed handsome man.
She broke into her mother’s bank,
she had done this once before.
She took four hundred dollars and
sold her mountain bike for more.
She bought a ticket with the cash
and headed for Tampa Bay,
but Amy never made it for
her plane went down that day.
The pastor at the funeral prayed
for a spirit free and wild;
“Dear Father, please forgive her sins
for she was just a child.”