To me her eyes were heaven,
As their gaze about me fell.
And I saw there in them shining,
The words I longed to tell.

A boy and girl in Summer,
Each just turned sixteen.
Pressed against a tall oak tree,
In a woods both dark and green.

My first real love I’m certain,
Is one you don’t forget.
Moist throbbing aching passion,
With no thoughts of regret.

But first loves like the snow of Spring,
Intended not to last.
Remembered now so vividly,
Though so far in the past.

Many years have come and gone,
And lovers just as well.
I find myself still waiting,
For the words I long to tell.


Category: Poetry, Relationships

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