Janice

I lean to licorice sticks

Or butterflies,

And I see cream puffs

Clouding up the skies.

She sounds like jade,

Green and fresh as Spring.

Jasmine in the breeze;

Apples on a string.

Joy and jazz or just

A lazy afternoon

Of childhood.

With swing rides in June.

Romeo, asked Juliet,

What’s in a name?

Janice is summer lakes

And shady lane