Thursday, May 13, 2010
Anissa Jones? Is That You?
I found some pictures in a drawer the other day,
of a girl about 7 years old.
She had pigtails, freckles and sandy blonde hair.
Her blue eyes were like a story untold.
I couldn't quite place her innocent face,
I had this feeling it was one I should know.
From back in grade school, as a child or teen,
or on some old television show.
She had a face like that of an angel,
A smile warm and serene.
Her skin was white and fair like alabaster,
A beautiful pretty princess or queen.
Then the thought suddenly hit me.
This was the face of a girl I knew.
Her and her little twin brother Jody,
In a swanky apartment on 5th Avenue.
I remember she had a doll, that wore silly glasses
and had her same style of hair.
I think she called her doll Mrs. Beasley,
You know? I think we have that same doll somewhere.
My wife and I met under peculiar circumstances,
A blind date, that single men have long feared.
When she told me her dad was also her uncle,
I just thought that it was sort of weird.
It turned out her brothers had once been her cousins,
Her parents had gotten divorced.
She had recently split from her first husband,
I didn't think it could get any worse.
So I married that girl despite all her baggage,
There was something definitely at play.
It might have been kismet or fate that grabbed us,
All I know is I loved her and needed someplace to stay.
Sometimes, though, it seems more than coincidence,
My wife's pictures in pigtails and sandy blonde hair.
Reflect a certain uncanny resemblance,
To that little girl from the show Family Affair.
She, brother Jody and her teen sister Sissy,
Were the wards of their Uncle Bill's care.
Butler Giles French and their 27A apartment,
Graced the 60's Monday night prime time air.
I admit as a youngster I was often quite smitten,
With that girl and her mesmerizing stare.
When I first met my wife I was caught love-bitten
By this girl's similar tantalizing flair.
When Buffy died, many cried,
Her fans mourned and were all quite saddened,
She had brightened the rooms of many homes.
Sometimes I wonder if it all really happened.
It crosses my mind, as thoughts start to roam.
Am I the one blind? Is her cover blown?
I think I married Anissa Jones.
Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney
I just read your poem, and enjoyed it a lot. I run a Facebook page called "Anissa Jones Remembrance Society" and, if you'd like, you're more than welcome to hop on. Johnny Whitaker recently joined the page; he's said nothing since joining, but it's rather amazing he joined. Please, feel free to check it out!
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