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.
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.
Posted 4 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
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It's that sixty-four thousand dollar question, should I pursue it.
You hear of people who have married yet always longed for their first love, meet up years later and reconnect. I suppose facebook makes that a lot easier. I suppose life has a crazy way of making decisions for you. Nothing ventured nothing gained.
What a beautiful reverie, Beccy. The theme is one that can fall prey to cliche, but this is a really thoughtful and insightful poem. There is a novel in here somewhere, and I love how you let your imagination roam beguilingly as the piece developed.
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.
A wonderful poem shared dear Beccy.
"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."
Like a Hemingway tale in the poem. Some people excite the mind and the pen. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote
Ohhhh, Beccy. You had me rapt and hopeful. A Cocoon of nostalgia wrapped around fragile shoulders, the only thing cushioning the blow and preventing the pieces. This may be one of the most romantic pieces I have ever read and in such a good way. I caught myself tearing up as I read it. This isn’t straight form the heart, it is tattooed on someone’s heart somewhere. And we all know that tattoos hurt worst where the skin is thinnest. I adored this, if I am gushing it is because I am still riding the wave.
Posted 4 Years Ago
4 Years Ago
What a lovely comment Crowley, thank you ever so much.
Missed you lots by the way, wh.. read moreWhat a lovely comment Crowley, thank you ever so much.
Missed you lots by the way, where have you been this last little while?
4 Years Ago
Just working mostly. Not much else going on really. Did go to a socially distanced karaoke night t.. read moreJust working mostly. Not much else going on really. Did go to a socially distanced karaoke night the other night, that was fun. But other than that, trying not to catch the Covid and working a lot. Ready to travel somewhere, but that is not going to happen for a while. I want to see some people, strangers, and make new friends. I am a pretty social person. I am not made for shut ins. How about you?
I wish I could find words to adequately convey just how much I enjoyed your First Love, but I cant and if I try any harder summats gonna blow.. so I just want you to know Beccy I reckon this was simply lovely and then some :)
Superbly written Beccy with so much detail through the passing of time. Really pulls on the emotions and had me reflecting on similar experiences. A great read, Now that billet-doux? Will you? Won:t you? Delicious memories. A poetic feast.
I'm forty four, single and have a lovely fifteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and real.. more..