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Poem

My first love, a lovely girl then in her sixteen, 
Floated across the corn fields dancing with breeze,
Wearing a short, flying frock with color of sea-green,
While dropping her gloves to trick her mom — police. 
The scene grew in my heart, and I wrote my first piece. 

On a gloomy, warm afternoon, I saw through trees 
How she was conspiring with bees to cease our love,
To break our love, to beat our hearts, just to please 
Her mom, and I saw our love, like a beaten dove,
Fly above, and I wrote the next poem asking how.

Here, she sits beside, having my head on her hips,
Hunting gray hares in a wood that has flying hairs,
And teasing me with tales ... by rounding her lips, 
How I scribbled ballads on love in my nightmares.  
I should write state-of-the-art piece on such affairs.



Oct. 14, 2020 
.....and so I wrote a poem Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: john Lawless

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