A ballad I wrote a few years ago.

Sunday morning, yawning aloud

Flipping through magazines

Staring down aisle number two

Rattling coins in jeans

Wearing her nametag upside down

Hair in a sloppy bun

She pointed at the camera

Trying to have some fun

Addie was nearly seventeen

Pretty but immature

Doodling on an old receipt

When Jack came through the door

Green eyes brushed passed her round dark brown

He strutted far away

Leaning over cash register

She wondered what to say Read More