First Meeting

A romantic poet tries to remember when he discovered poetry and realizes he can't remember not knowing it.

It was early fall when we met,
In West Virginia, at sunrise
Where pinks and reds melt blue skies
And innocence wasn't lost yet.

Or maybe it was a hot July
When we two became such good friends.
I first saw through the rosy lens
And love had yet taught me to lie.

No - it was night in November,
Yes - all wrapped in a warm cocoon,
Winter's white blanket - gleaming moon,
We sang songs I can't remember.

Wait - I was a boy. It was spring.
Full of life born of nature's womb.
The song inside began to bloom -
Blissful, dumb to what it may bring.

I'm sure it was one of those ways,
Or all - spring, summer, winter, fall.
Maybe we never met at all.
You were quietly there always.

Reviews

[uNmAsKeD-dEluSiOns]

This one was inspiring and had a neat concept, I liked how it all came together so easily.

[Mike Mardis]

Thanks for the feedback. I'm glad you liked it.