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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required bright … a flash of light - thunder clapped like cannons as into the old tree we scurried ... the mouth of its little hollowed-out gut, yawning like some tired old man from a Dickens story ... perhaps the chin of the ghost of Jacob Marley, let loose in horrid fashion from its jaw- binding bandages ... ~ then found two youth so terrified … midst forests deep and starry-eyed ~ the soft pine-needle floor of the space inside was quite long enough to lay down on but not very wide so we squeezed together like shoes in a box rain pouring all the more and dripping off the scarred cedar bark onto her coal-black, jasmine-scented tresses - damp ponytail resting coyly on my bared shoulder … ~ like feather, soft, from angel’s wing … brushed flesh and mind, meandering ~ ‘what now?’ I could tell we both thought and though unspoken the question hung in awkward silence between us rain pattering like mice on a tin roof epicanthal folds of her inky almond Taiwanese eyes looking at me for reassurance though I had no more experience than she in such situations ... still, I crimped the edges of my mouth up in the gentle attempt at a smile and she returned it eyes deep-sparkling with "yes" ... ~ that gaze abyss I plunged to death … one languid look to catch my breath ~ odd, that we had barely reached our teens for what came after that first shy, testing cotton-candy kiss, played out like some grand romantic movie on the big screen becoming a magical dance of confusion and excitement and frightened, fumbling flesh - a rain-spattered dreamy interplay of limbs that seemed to hold time in its place … 'til we emerged hours later into the golden glow of dusk covered in soft scratches and pine needles in a subdued post-passion delirium … and quietly walked home (in different directions) through the dimming twilight mist, never to speak of it … again ... ~ young love, demurring, ought remain thus vanished like her tears … in rain ~ well … she moved away with her family not long after and though we had promised each other to stay in touch I only received one post card from her and it was months later telling me about a boy she'd met and how they'd kissed on their first date ... as if what had taken place in that old tree deep in the woods that rainy July afternoon was nothing but a lark - no more than a dream or a charm or thistle on the breeze ... ~ oh how could heaven let such be? my soul was birthed inside that tree ~ except ... it WAS more ... for me it was the most REAL thing - the most tender thing the most precious and sweet and life-changing thing ... it was the most fearfully beautiful most wonderfully frightening most exquisitely complicated thing that I have ever, ever known … yet now, despite the ache that pulls on my heart despite this memory of incomparable passion and sensitivity and turmoil though her taste still dances in my thoughts like confection to pull me back to the delicate wonderments of her satiny cappuccino skin, sweaty-sweet, and baptized by the balmy summer rain … I am, to her, all but a quotidian ghost … of the gloaming. Copyright © 2025 Gregory Richard Barden
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