I want a country boy,
who picks me up in his beat-up
hand-me-down,
lived-in pick up
a football-playing
Sunday morning worshiping
second son of a tight-knit clan
that looks at me
with his unclouded blue eyes
not searching for faults
or explanations
no need to foresee the future.
And I'd look up
grateful to some glorious power
for giving this country boy,
this southern-drawl using
sweet-tea drinking
yes-ma'am-answering gentleman,
just to me.