First Love

Untold numbers of jumpy teens
Lay prostrate in their throbbing
Rooms, convinced their lives are
Near their ends, as pimply paramours
Depart. How can they live when
Love is lost? How will they move,
As shades, as cripples, through
This cruel world now? The first
Love is the greatest, surely? Sorry,
Kids; in fact, it's not, and, for your
Sake, I sought my first (of whom
I hadn't thought for years), and
Found her where I'd seen her last,
But she was dull and very old,
And less than pleased to meet
With me, and I shed not a tear
As I endured the story of the
Life I might have shared, had
Things gone better. Rather,
As I edged away, beyond the
Booth, beyond the door, into
My car, and down the road,
My body softened with relief.
My first love died some decades
Past. Yours will not linger.
Mark my words. Get up and
Leave your little rooms, you
Weepy, jumpy teens.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 22 times
Written on 2013-11-05 at 01:28

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