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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required love, spring, and death it was spring, late April, snow thawed and sun-warmed winter cold faces, I was 18 and in love the object of my desire was a bit older than me, (which my mother never failed to point out) were going to visit her father who had a small farm near a town that had no rail link we had to go by bus the part of the way; back then there were many buses The day was brilliant as the bus tugged its way on a narrow road near where they were moving a small mountain to give more space when a couple of large stones fell onto the road and the driver stopped He got out to remove the rocks, and as he bent down to move the rocks aside a big piece of the mountain fell and he was squashed, his feet were sticking out and they weren't moving Back then there were no mobile phones only landlines and eager people went looking for a farm that had a phone farmsteads didn't have phones. Seeing dead so close up and the girl clinging to me made me enormously horny thinking this was befitting of me to feel that way. We got off the bus and went to find a place with bushes and trees so as not to be seen from the road we made love quite noisily frightening rabbits and foxes and later we sat on the trunk of a fallen tree. She was crying in the memory of her mother who had died a few years ago, I hadn't anyone near to cry for except my gran father who had been a confectioner who as they said made exceedingly good cakes but he had died before I was born. After the crying was over, we smoked cigarettes and soon we were at it again. I have been told by those whose profession is to know such think, in times of upheaval and drama people tend to make love a lot.
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