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Fourteen Still

Maybe they were right
She hasn't moved an inch
From where she was
Since she was fourteen

Clams and sea shells
Crawl through the sandy bottom of the sea
And when they're found, reveal a pearl
That few have bothered to seek

Painting pictures
And not her face
Failed to impress
With that lousy dress

That dress she's been wearing since she was fourteen
It's a quiet river of blue
When she doesn't say a thing
Maybe she's just thinking

Taste this innocence
It's not such a bad thing to keep
Things new and sweet
Aren't always too deep
a song with five chords.
they saw a picture of me taken 10 years ago and their remarks inspired this.
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thelambofgod Featured By Owner May 29, 2001   Writer
i do too, love that line, when she doesn't say a thinng, maybe she's just thinking...

sometimes i just sit and stare out into the void and random things float past my eyes and i pay no i do love to sit and think...and people ask what the hell is wrong with you, you don't you just sit yada yada...

sorry...just relating. bloody nice poem.

The Lamb of God
miss-conception Featured By Owner May 29, 2001
she took a step back to better absorb the admiration that seems to stretch further each time she view your words. she read it twice, and she read the comments below. "jokes on them"..oh, she loved your sense of humour :) (Smile)

"When she doesn't say a thing
Maybe she's just thinking"

Why do people always fail to see..

sumalangitnawa Featured By Owner May 28, 2001
what a beautiful comment.

the group with the album were commenting on how after 10 years, after moving to *America*, that I still looked like a "country girl", without make-up, wearing the same clothes... "OMG Mari, there was no improvement!"


Jokes on them.

jsenn Featured By Owner May 28, 2001
You haven't changed a bit.
The blue dress still fits!
You are more mature of course, but life has not been cruel to you.
You've had no trauma which caused early wrinkles and white strands of hair.
Love has treated you with kindness.
You are so lucky.

She sat in the chair across from the group with the album, watched their heads bob up and down as they noticed how she'd not changed a bit. She smiled. Finally, she picked up the saucer holding her teacup, brought the cup to her mouth, lowered her eyes, let her nostrils fill with the scent of exotic spices and took not one, not two, but three slow, elegant sips.
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Submitted on
May 28, 2001
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