On an impulse, but oft rehearsed in dreams,
A surreptitious larceny that seems,
In recollection pure and innocent,
Yet still concealing passionate intent
And yearning, for its chaste recipient.
Unknowing of such matters of the heart,
Confused, bewildered how to even start
To woo this object of his heart's desire.
To lie within her arms he did aspire,
With ardent longing was he set afire.
At last, a start along love's road he made,
A magic moment when his hand had strayed
Innocuously to brush against her breast.
She let the moment pass without protest,
Quite unaware that she had been caressed.
Fate intervened and drove them far apart.
His amorous intent was stifled at the start.
True love he found elsewhere, he did not grudge
In age that moment that had meant so much-
Now teenage memory - a stolen touch.
Copyright © Peter Rees | Year Posted 2017