A young love, a new love,
Fresh and in bud,
A heart racing-ly exciting
love,
Though uncertain,
A future undecided
Though exciting still
A breathless love,
full of longing
Eagerness and
anticipation
Needing to be together
Reluctance to part
Hand touching hand,
Heart touching heart,
A pulse racing love,
With hearts full of
love,
Though heads full of
doubt
“Do they feel as I?”
“Am I a fool to trust?”
Will their love last?
Will it blossom and
grow
Will it bear fruit?
Or will it wither on
the vine
Her hair was dirty blonde, shoulder length,
Curly loose ringlets
cascading down
Her face was
Mediterranean, dark, dusky
Eyes black as the
night sky in winter,
Brows thick and dark,
nose pert, mouth full
Her skin smooth as
polished wood,
A figure like a Rodin
carving of perfection
Dressed in satin and
lace, provocatively
Full breasts hidden
within delicate lace
Hips, buttocks, and
every feminine curve
Slender legs sheathed
in stocking of black silk
Stiletto heels shaping
them perfectly
But the perfect vision
is not as it seems
For it’s the
airbrushed woman of my dreams
The soft pale skin of her face was hidden
Beneath the large broad brim of a straw hat
Which cast a dappled shadow across her
Alabaster shoulders; arms and chest
Save for the wispy
strands upon her neck
The hat concealed her
strawberry curls
And a flowing white
silk dress concealed
Her young figure from
lascivious eyes
The silk billowing
around her, fitting only
Where it touched, her
young body a mystery
The vision in white
caused men to stare
As a shaft of light
burst through the trees
Illuminated her form
for everyone to see
Exposing her delights
in the summer light
At the Café underneath the great clock,
He sat waiting there
suited and booted
Perched on the edge of
his seat, restless
As he watched the
great clock hands moving
Slowly, as they ticked
off the minutes
His palms sweated and
his heart pounded
As he waited beneath the
great clock face
“What am I doing?” He
asked himself
“A blind date! what
was I thinking, madness”
He was too old for
blind dates, far too old
Why did he agree, what
would they talk about?
He wasn’t young, he
wasn’t cool, he was
More Wilson Philips
than Wilson Picket
But there she was, not
too young, and lovely
His mouth was dry and
he felt a bit faint
“I was terribly
nervous about tonight”
She said putting him
straight at his ease
As she slipped off her
coat effortlessly
With natural elegance
and easy grace.
As he took off his own
coat, he hit his arm
On the wall, bumped
into a woman,
And knocked over a
cruet, she laughed
At his discomfiture,
but not mockingly
And sympathetically
she bade him sit
Anne stood on a still riverbank, peaceful,
In that silent and untroubled location
But she knew well that was the very last time
She would stand in that special place alone
A joining of hearts in the days to come
Meant her life would be forever altered.
But remembrances filled her young head
Of when her own council was all she had
But no more since he entered her life
A soul mate, kindred spirit and lover
A friend and yet so much more besides
The other half of her, found at long last
And with this new stranger reunited
They will share the love that is requited
She was beautiful, elegant, and graceful
And held herself with dignity and poise
Yet was unaware of her own attraction
At school, boys of her age, for want of her
Cried themselves to sleep, and not only boys,
But she was unaware of the effect she had,
She turned heads and yet did not notice
This was not arrogance or even aloofness
She just did not see herself as others did
It had always been so, her innocence
Not that she did not date boys or even men,
She was neither virginal nor chaste
She was chased and pursued but not caught
Her heart, when given, went to the one man
Who saw beneath as only a soul mate can
I approached a stranger, a woman
Though not a stranger,
somehow familiar
In some way, in her
pale eyes I saw what?
Recognition? There was
something, but what?
We held each other’s
gaze and then stood
We faced each other in
silence, watching,
She offered her hand
to me with a smile
I took it and smiled
back, still in silence
Her hand soft and
gentle lay on my own
Until her fine
delicate fingers fitted
Between mine like the
pieces of a puzzle
Placed to fit with
perfection, completing
A picture of lost
moments found once more
She spoke and opened an eternal door
