Here is the poem I discovered recently in my attic that I mentioned yesterday, written to me by my first love, Allen, in 1967. I was sixteen and he was eighteen. We were both in love for the very first time and it was the perfect first love - filled with innocence, romance and sweetness. We had barely even kissed when this was written; we were both so shy - and things were just different back then. Life was much slower. Allen died awhile back, but I think he wouldn't mind at all that his poem is here. He was a poet at heart. And very different from my current love, Mike, who isn't a poet at all, but is my last and best love.
You came into my mind
captured my spleen
or maybe you were simply
a mellow dream
soaking in the imaginative fantasy
of my unreality:
Anyway, your magical
was overpowering and wonderful -
I looked through your long strands
of brown hair
and saw your motionless lips gleaming
on the green hillside...
In the darkness I felt you pressing
and clinging to me expressing
You were happy and smiling
and very near;
for in the dim light I saw the softness
of your shoulder...
And you were more beautiful
that a fairytale,
for though your nearness was an illusion,
I knew our love was real.
Forty one years ago the words in that poem were the most beautiful words in the world to me. Things have changed so since then and poems - though I love them still - don't mean near as much to me as they used to. While Mike is about as far from a poet as a man can be, he expresses himself in many other ways that mean as much, if not more. Together we are like poetry in motion, living the ins and outs of life and creating our own rhyme.