Andrew Crisci Poet Lyric

A Flame Not Really Born

Yesterday I was
in my early teens, 
cute Irene was my first girl,
she hardly smiled
I hope she would 
create that bond
stronger than the coldest iron:
ah. did all go well?

They should have seen me
pulling her arm, telling her
to follow me and chase
the sunset's big rainbow...
until it would disappear
was she excited to kiss me?

Days went by,
I felt alone,
Irene was daydreaming,
denying my feeling,
avoiding all the fun;
a flame not really born.

We never saw each other again,
our paths never met;
a flame not really born
wanted to burn 
in sunlight,
in moonlight
feeling great...
declaring our joy to the air.

No space or even time
can separate me  from what was,
just an impossible thought that hurts
pulling me down.

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