Her family moved in
across the street
and my 19 year old
head was turned.
I was curious.
I moved slowly,
the only speed
my timid, virgin
She was dark haired,
with a wide,
her name was Gracia.
Where I was a nervous
dervish of insecurity,
she was calm,
and laughed when needed,
and took me seriously
She was beautiful
and she was my friend
and I loved her.
were warm and they glowed.
We were chaste,
perhaps even naive,
and we both happily explored
the previously uncharted regions
of each others' heart.
We taught each other
how to kiss,
and nothing more.
There was no need for more:
it was an exquisite time,
and that was enough.
But, like a haunting melody
on a worn-out 45,
somewhere deep down
we both knew
our summer of 1983
would come to an end.
The next year
she started dating
and I tried not to watch
from my bedroom window
as he gently guided her
into his car,
in a most gentlemanly
and enviable fashion.
He was older (which I wasn’t),
he was Christian (which I wasn’t),
he had a plan for his life
(which I didn’t).
Within two years
she married Alex,
and I attended their wedding,
which her family
inexplicably and regrettably
decided to boycott.
I used to wonder
about my place
in her memories,
until I found out
first son’s name
the same as mine.
(Posted for #OpenLinkNight at dversepoets.com, the best poetry website on the whole damned Internet.)
This made me smile in so many way! The innocence, the curiosity, the desire...Beautiful! esp. the ending!ReplyDelete
Thanks, yes I saw it as positive validation. Still, she was a religious girl and might've just liked the regal name. :)Delete
smiles...obviously you meant much to her...and the memories of that summer linger...i remember many a summer friendship and the feelings that come with it as well....i think you probably did well for yourself though...ReplyDelete
Thanks, but I think it'd bug me if my wife named our first child after a former love. I guess I'm pretty small that way. And, yes, I did pretty well from myself in the love department.Delete
Mosk, this is a wonderful memory, beautifully told. I love true tales of coming of age. She definitely DID remember you, I'm sure!ReplyDelete
Mine for dVerse:
Thanks. I really liked how innocent everything was back in 1983. (Holy smokes, I'm getting old. Getting? There!)Delete
Oh, Mosky. You're killing this old romantic. Le sigh.ReplyDelete
I read a paperback novel, years ago, called "Wife Kills Kids And Self." It was, I suppose, a dark comedy about a man who comes home from work on a Friday afternoon to find that, indeed, that's what she's done. He goes through the weekend trying to figure out why, mowing his lawn and pondering even as the bodies lay inside. He turns over everything he can think of about their marriage, but still doesn't get it. Then at the end, he discovers a box at the back of her closet. A teenage boy who delivered groceries to the house had had a crush on the wife, and had written her a stack of love notes. Instead of throwing them away, she had kept them in a place where she kept her most cherished and personal things. We're funny creatures, but some of us never forget.
Thanks, yes, we're funny creatures. After all these years I think I have one snapshot of her and her very sweet goodbye letter. I wish I could tell every other woman who dumped me "See? This is how you're supposed to say goodbye!"Delete
More than a poetic device.ReplyDelete
Thanks - yes, I don't think I ever wrote about her before.Delete
be still my heart! Fantastic, goosebump, heart warming finish. Oh my, just wonderful! I've got warm fuzzies...They way you wove the tale, capturing the innocence of the summer, young love, then having to watch it walk away and coming to find it never really did. Encore, dear Poet! Encore!ReplyDelete
Thanks Tashtoo - watching her walk away was a slow, slow dagger in my heart, but I knew she was with a good guy. I'm assuming they're still married, so they'll be hitting 27 years this July! Encore? Thanks, That's a real honor!Delete
There's a warmth to remembering these long gone moments when our hearts were simple, and life seemed so new. Last lines are very affirming that we can mean more than we ever know to people who have passed out of our lives.ReplyDelete
Thanks Hedgie, Yes, we never know how we're going to be remembered, so in this case, I'm assuming it was positive.Delete
Ah, young love. If only we could retain that stars-in-our-eyes innocence. What a tender read. xoReplyDelete
Thank you, yes, I remember that innocence and there were many times after I wished I was there again.Delete
Hello storyteller, poet, friend. You just keep building and building. I am glad to be on the ground floor looking up on your highrise. :)ReplyDelete
Thanks for the kind words Andrea, your support means a lot to me!Delete
Ahhh... do we ever forget our very first real love. It isn't all lust, it's when the heart knows it feels love and not desire. When kissing is enough to satisfy and respecting each other to not go too far. She loved you, for sure, or she would never have called her new born the same name. I expect she too, thinks of you once in a while and, gets a warm glow in her heart.ReplyDelete
What a lovely read.
Thanks, and I hope if she gets a warm glow when she thinks of me, it isn't heartburn.Delete
That is SO sweet!! It MUST be true, you really captured this so well. I was glued and the last lines did precisely what a good poem does...I felt it! Great one Buddah!ReplyDelete
Thanks, Hannah! I wonder if people are surprised that I have this sweet side to me? I wasn't always a curmudgeon!Delete
Romance and love abounds. A very fine story sir, very fine indeed.ReplyDelete
Thanks, Mark. Yes, there was a real sweetness to this memory.Delete
What a great narrative poem, Mosk! (By the way, this is Posmic from Poetic Asides.)ReplyDelete
Thanks for your comment - I appreciate it because I'm usually bad at writing ends to my stories. This one wrote itself. :)Delete
You may not have any children named after her, but you wrote a poem about her, validating her place in your own memory. See? There is balance in the universe.ReplyDelete
Thanks, Semaphore. I like that idea so much.Delete
awww...what a charming and heart warming story... you seem to have meant much to her.. sweet summer love...niceReplyDelete
Thanks, Claudia, I hope she named her son after me and not some other guy named [redacted].Delete
This really touched me, like I am in Tuscany. Thank you for sharing.ReplyDelete
Thanks for reading it - I appreciate your kind comment.Delete
What a sweet memory. We never forget our first love. There is always that special place in our heart kept just for them. Thanks for reminding us of the innocence of the unjaded heart.ReplyDelete
You're welcome and thank you for the kind words. Yes, 1983 is a bittersweet set of memories for me.Delete
You surprise me sometimes. You are one of many layers. That is beautiful.ReplyDelete
I surprise me too! I'm usually a real bastard! Thanks for the kind words.Delete
This is a sweet retelling...sometimes those memories are all we have...thanks for sharing this ~ReplyDelete
Thanks Heaven, it's a nice set of memories for me.Delete