My Muse

My first love, a lovely girl then in her sixteen, Floated across the corn fields dancing with breeze, Wearing a short, flying frock with color of sea-green, While dropping her gloves to trick her mom — police. The scene grew in my heart, and I wrote my first piece. On a gloomy, warm afternoon, I saw through trees How she was conspiring with bees to cease our love, To break our love, to beat our hearts, just to please Her mom, and I saw our love, like a beaten dove, Fly above, and I wrote the next poem asking how. Here, she sits beside, having my head on her hips, Hunting gray hares in a wood that has flying hairs, And teasing me with tales ... by rounding her lips, How I scribbled ballads on love in my nightmares. I should write state-of-the-art piece on such affairs. Oct. 14, 2020 .....and so I wrote a poem Poetry Contest Contest Sponsor: john Lawless