Cowgirl. (a poem, by me)

I had a friend,

Her name was Sally.

All problems she would mend,

Without a ‘warry’,

They were never mechanical,

But mainly emotional,

And sometimes Botanical ;

She sounded a cockney girl,

Though born in devon,

She thought she’d give rhymes a whirl,

Before she reached heaven -

She got two things from watching Eastenders,

Not just the accent of hers,

I doubt the soap makes many love makers,

But she turns a roar to a purr.

How I miss my good friend Sally,

She told me good stories about her barn,

Cow girl was my good friend Sally,

Her nick name that rose from the farm;

She told me though of the large family she had,

In such a confined space,

She never even saw of her dad,

He was the landlords taste.

We swiftly changed the topic of speech,

She often had problems at barn,

We’d laugh with the pigs that oink and screech,

We pray the landlord don’t harm -

We gossiped and gossiped,

I always had news to tell,

She said ‘Please do stop it,’

As she heard sounds of a bell;

She always dreamed of getting married,

Not in a church - of course,

In her dreams that she’d be carried,

Where the brides maid was a horse,

She’d apologise after

For letting me astray,

Fields filled with laughter,

We spend time this way.

She dreamed of getting with characters on the television,

Though her friends thought she was sick,

We always shared secrets and had fun,

Though we feared the length left on times wick.

I used to laugh at the great things she said,

And how she will marry Elvis,

I never reminded her that he’s dead,

For I dare not spoil the flow.

Just like her land lord did one night.

Sally was old and was no use to him,

He decided one cold night,

Her produce was sour and her body too slim,

Some drugs will make her right.

He is a sick and twisted man,

I miss my best friend so,

I think good memories whenever I can,

But they always seem to go. I miss my cow girl.

- by Cameron Williamson.