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"Tu préfére?"-In the class room I sit,
Trying to remember which words fit.
This confusing wonder of a language mystifies...French.
The romance language of the land,
Comprehension falls through the fingers of my hands.
I sit, pondering, wondering, as my thoughts drift away.
What words do I write, which words do I say?
Black letters on my paper ask, "Tu préfére?"I groan with regret
How easily I forget!
These terms swim around my mind,
In one ear and out the next.
My teacher stands from behind her desk.
I know what’s coming, I know the rest!
She opens her mouth and takes a breath,
"There is a quiz today."My grades whither and fade.
Surly I will fail today.
The black letters on my paper ask, "Tu préfére?"