DISCLAIMER: This is just a little poem about horribly sexy British Jude Law. As far
as the disclaimer goes…Jude belongs to himself (and his wife. Did you see
that wedding band?! Geez…..She's trying to get the point across that
he's her property, huh!?). Anyways, this written out
of a purely innocent fascination with the drop-dead-sexy li'l bugger in question. I'm NOT a stalker! I'm just a hopeless and foolish young woman--*snicker! snicker!*--
Author's Notes: Also, I'm completely certain that he's got rug-rats; I'm just going something I heard somewhere…. Some of you are thinking "Who the *$%!# is Jude Law?!" The answer to your first question is "Shaddap." The second answer is thusly: Check out the films "Music From Another Room;" "Gattaca;" "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil;" "Wilde," and "The Talented Mr. Ripley" (if you've seen that movie, than you know Jude plays
Dickie, the rich white boy). So that's that. Now read the poem. NOW, I said!
--Ode' To Jude--
You're a trillion miles away, and way too old for
me, anyway, but still I admire you.
I watch the films, both 'b' grade and good, and
drool way more than most any girl should.
I see your handsome face, your charm 'n grace, and
my little heart flies all 'round the place.
An' don't get me
started on those eyes, which are bluer then the bluest skies.
Despite your own perfection, you have flaws so cute
they draw in more of my affection.
The goofy grin you sometimes get makes me giggle
until I split.
Your English accent, so thick and cute, makes some
lines hard to compute.
Well, you may've lost the Oscars and may wear
briefs instead of boxers, but I admire you anyway.
But, you're a married man (long sigh).
You've got a little woman and some kids (and maybe
another some other day), though I'm not much for the family thing, 'to each his
own,' I always say.
And though you have a woman with which to share
your bed, I cry not; I'll just drool over George 'perpetually single' Clooney