First love.

I saw you in the high street today.
A fleeting glimpse, little more than
a reflection in a shop window;
a momentary flicker frame
of recognition, followed
by the faintest of hesitations,
that caused my heart to almost cease.
Then, you were gone without trace,
like dropped ash from a cigarette end.

Later, in a different reflection,
I saw us in photographs.
They were sepia, grained with age;
And you were so handsome,
me, so elegant in a 1920's
gold and blue Cocktail Dress,
and as casual chatter drifted,
we danced, lighter than air.
But it was hardly a memory,
let alone a reality.

So instead, I imagined the ocean.
Fathomless; me sinking into its depths,
meeting all manner of strange
creatures on my journey;
giving no thought to
how I was still breathing,
the coolness on my skin,
the darkness descending.
But it was only the turning
of pages in my book;
a reverie, not a reality.

Then, as I sought sleep, I saw you again,
the bloom of youth still on your cheeks;
and you were Cezanne's
'The Boy in the Red Vest.'
Frozen by time, posed as you
were in those photographs,
my words unable to reach you,
let alone lead you back to my arms,
and my eyes became pieces of glass,
all brittle with the rainfall of love.

Maybe one day, before I become thin veined,
I will pen you an anonymous billet-doux.
Hope you might recognise my hand from the
notes I made in your school exercise book.
Those silly little pencilled in hearts
that led to our first ever kiss;
hesitant, but like the first opening
of a newborn child's eyes,
never to be forgotten.

Then again, perhaps I should leave things lie.
A capture on canvas of a boy at his desk,
a young girl, scribbling when opportunity came.
Allow that our worlds have moved on,
that memories have just as rich fruits
to cull as realities; and that divination,
that most ancient and precarious
of arts, is, in the end,
best left to the imagination.

Reviews

[Jimmy Yetts]

So this is what a woman's not-so-secret secret reverie is like.
To be sure, a gifted woman who writes brilliant poetry.
From what I can gather, first loves are almost always more about being in love with love than
the supposed object of our affections; an object we, thoroughly
and conveniently, idealize.

[Tina]

Very beautiful poem. The part about the ocean made me think of the end of titanic.

[SkinlessFrank]

I have been thinking recently about this mode of memory and how it becomes etched within us. Sometimes I can not recall what the day before was like, but I can always conjure up falling victim to that first seduction. Do you think there might exist a special treasure chest within our minds where we store these precious jewels?

[Beccy]

Most definitely there is; and how much less we would be without such recall.

This was spawned from a genuine, momentary glance of someone I knew a long time ago. A school friend, no more than that actually, but then, as it so often does, poetic imagination took over. :))

[JD Major]

Remembrance, longing, dreams, in and out of what-was and what-is, memories of first love entwined in sweet illusion, now and then wondering is it best left, inevitably deciding yes, its value is as hope and hope is as illusion, loving again.
... needless to say, Beccy, your words touched me. I'm 5 yrs old, kissing Janey on a summer's day :)
There's such rhythm in your words, each well-chosen, and I dig your trademark semicolons!
Funny, I never say "dig." :)

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

nobody forgets their first love. A delightfullt ellegant poem, a great read.

[Robert Trakofler]

the power of the conduction of your heart to these lines is superb in its imagery and in its feelings conveyed:) I could write a thousand poems and not even come close to this intimacy of thought conveyance this is instantly one of my favorite poems I have read here! well... actually, anywhere

[Sami Khalil]

So beautiful and so touching to share those cherished revelations about the first love for someone dear, near to the heart but far from now. I felt the rawness and sincerity in those lines of poetic excellence.

[Sami Khalil]

" saw us in photographs.
They were sepia, grained with age;
And you were so handsome,
me, so elegant in a 1920's
gold and blue Cocktail Dress"

[Sami Khalil]

"the bloom of youth still on your cheeks;
and you were Cezanne's
'The Boy in the Red Vest.'
Frozen by time, posed as you"

[h d e rushin]

in the fifth stanza here you showed us just how remarkable a poet you are. Because here is when the nonconformity of observation turns into this wonderful pallet of post-born empathy; and thus is palinode to every love song ever heard. It is of considerable sensibility and perceptible reason to conclude that wisdom is exceedingly sensational.....Your amazing..........just amazing.....dana

[Just Kim]

This is just so wonderful, I enjoyed this brilliant write