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  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry


Source: Adults

Author: Douglas Munday

Title: First Love


We walked that first day,
along the mossed and
wild flowered river bank.
I can still remember the
warmth of her hand in mine
as we reached and rested
at the ancient wooden bridge.

We talked then for a time,
discovering; watching the
shimmer of our reflections
in the swirling drift of the
river's lazy current;
and she giggled hysterically
when I confessed I was a poet.

"If you're any good," she said,
"write me a poem about the way
my hair blows in the wind."
I smiled and watched the
lift and curl. No words I had
described the girl
as her hair blew in the wind.

Interlude .........


This is the end
her gentle blue eyes said,
no answer came,
just downcast heart instead.
The silence sat,
like Ravens waiting in the trees;
the glance of love
so flicker fast she never sees.

She stand to go,
shakes out her golden hair.
No words are left,
just tears of quiet despair.
Her gentle eyes say;
don't you dare come near,
he cries inside,
feels then the ghost of fear.

No point now
in the artful clever word,
the silent prayer,
locked deep and never heard.
The dream is done,
dice tumbled from above.
A final sad reminder
to the losing of his love.

Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

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