I was twelve.
You were eight.
My hair was still blonde.
Yours had just begun to turn dark.
I would watch you through the barbed wire fence that separated our souls.
You, with your father and grand father, working the land.
Me, on my tippy toes, with my grandfather in hand.
We were checking the bee hives.
I thought I might like you,
if ever we met.
(1978)
You were eight.
My hair was still blonde.
Yours had just begun to turn dark.
I would watch you through the barbed wire fence that separated our souls.
You, with your father and grand father, working the land.
Me, on my tippy toes, with my grandfather in hand.
We were checking the bee hives.
I thought I might like you,
if ever we met.
(1978)
9 comments:
and you did meet....and you did like him.
who'd a thunk it, way back then????lol
~C~
Oh, this was the first day I ever saw him........and it will continue.
Please keep us posted. :)
Beautiful story...
It's not an event
It's an adventure.
It's also a life long process.
Reminds me of my first love !!
You make me feel young again!
PS:I looked all over for the colored powder(holi)but since the festival was over...I could not find it
I love it. This one moment. I can see it, smell the perfume of summer, imagine that little girl's heart...
Did you say there will be more? Can't wait!
"I would watch you through the barbed wire fence that separated our souls."
Love it.
Damn, this is a great poem. Every syllable of every line.
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