There was a lady named Valerie Who loved spending her days by The fountain in Saint Ann's Square. She would buy a coffee and sit On the archaic stone beneath The mount of rose petals and Listen to the soothing sound of The water and the haunting Voice of the beautiful Marie Bleue. Marie Bleue held a captive audience Of besotted men who swooned over her Lavender lips and deep black locks. But her most avid admirer Was the blue-bobbed Valerie, Her eyes only for the alluring Marie Bleue. Everyday she gazed and drifted Deeper into her weathered lullabies of Shipwrecked vessels and tattooed lovers, And everyday she knew the love she Felt was unrequited as Marie Bleue Fluttered her eyelashes at everyone but her. Poor Valerie had nobody at home, Not even a proud cat to pay her no mind. And she only had eyes for Marie. Even if the singer felt nothing for her, It didn't matter to her, as just To listen to her bewitching tales Was all she needed in her life, That and the soothing water Of the delicate fountain of Saint Ann's Square. One dusk while Marie was whisked away By strong suitors with anchor tattoos And strong rum in their veins, Valerie stayed at her seat, unwilling To leave the square and return home Alone, to the silence of the house. She wished she could forever gaze upon Marie Bleue, and in the morning the Busker saw her for the first time, And stared at her in wonder As she had never noticed the stone statue Of a woman sitting at the fountain before.
A poem about a woman in love with the mysterious singer by the fountain.