Mademoiselle
Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!
Though fresh was not my cup of tea.
I remember you very well.
Your memory is what remains with me.
Qu’est-ce qui c’est passé
In your booming voice you’d say
When you began your evening class
Or at the break when you went away
To drink tea with monsieur Le Professeur
And inhale his cigarette fumes.
Now he sits alone in his chair
And blow rings at the ceiling, one assumes.
Thickets of French grammar
The impossible French orthographe,
You could sail through all without a stammer
Cracking jokes that made us laugh.
Though I flunked the fresh diploma
Let me say all the same
You tried to make me feel at home.
Medemoiselle, je vous aime