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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required "The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things (or feelings) but their inward significance" - Aristotle ~ Janie ... Janie Rose Bright fuchsia painted nails and toes I was but twelve, a boy ... she, sixteen and coy Summer mischief at camps on the lake Warm evenings after dinner, down to the shore I'd make "the call" - a youthful, visceral howl of promise ... and mystery Around the misty point it echoed and returned, but much sweeter (Like a callow phantom searching for straining hearts) Her teenage version of a nightingale that meant "meet at the tree house" Oh, how my bones trembled, exictement and apprehension coursing Inexperience and the unknown dancing like goblins Mocking me with anxiety, nearly paralyzing But I HAD to go ... something deep in my marrow burned A heat that pulled me, despite the horrid confusion and chaos inside At the lake's edge I would look up at the moon ... swoon "Watch over me", I'd say, dashing to the tree house up the road As I got close, I'd hear the radio - her favorite song requested each night "Why do stars suddenly appear ... every time you are near?" ... indeed When I reached the rope ladder, I'd take a deep breath ... And, shaking, aching, I'd climb ... slowly ... up To a secret, tender world of fear and fun ... and young love, undone ... The wonders, wild ... of Janie Rose. ~ 3rd Place ~ in the "My Youth" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
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