Unlike a townie, rambling across the treacherous street,
Timid by nature, dowdy in manner,
Not knowing the limits of his own feet,
Lost in a land unknown, the innocent foreigner.
His metropolitan accent would have many embarrass him,
Writing his way out, he was often left chasing cars,
His appearance had them wonder if he was swayed by his own whim,
With Kids confusing him with football stars, to him it was like a written farce.
But a goal he had set for him to achieve,
And so, he took off wearing his fedora,
In God, he said he believed,
Marching on, holding master’s hand from Paris to Pandora.
Blessed by the wind, he danced with the wave,
He finally found friends and a place to refuge,
Crowned he was with comments so rave,
Climbing the ladder like our very own Uncle Scrooge.
Struggle sure it was but on he went,
Battling through agony with the ointment of grace,
Whenever in trouble, to his amazement, a scent he always smelt,
Greeted by guru with wisdom and knowledge, he finally found his place.
The Innocent Foreigner.
Good/Bad whatever. Please leave a comment.