What is grace?
And how do you fall from it?
Is it when you loose your place?
Or try to save face?
Or is it just a name?
To help you rise to fame?
But wouldn’t a rose smell as sweet
If it had another name, like Pete?

So when Grace walks through the door
Look at her till eye sore
Watch how she moves
While dancing jive grooves
Swanning with the birds
Not like cattle in herds
Only wearing flats
Roaming freely like cats