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First Love Then...
by Walter Jones (Age: 62)
copyright 03-27-2008


Age Rating: 16 to 127

 
I remember the first time
in bed of traveled light

Every morning after

Practiced till
we got it right

Love it is action

Never past reality

Pleasure it is a season

Given to more in dreams

When the water in the streams

Turns from hot to cold

Every tear from age unfolds



Lea takes with tribute as a kiss upon a cheek

Me I wish for something that is neither humbled nor weak

Plain of my father left like the plow upon the wheat

Restrain is my mother sewing patches on our feet

Delight it comes quietly in the fatal of the storm

Height of resentment on the banker’s forms

Fears trip like fires set to back board the same

Years of lovers kill the mind and block the names

Wood is riper than the will to keep it fed

Cried when she pushed me from her bed

Blank the yearning for the way it was back then

Plank of last we slumbered in from cock to hen

Edge lists the body of mind realign from the same

Hedge the banker counting onto body not the name

Small we stand together looking out over the land

Wall of least presence all becomes the master plan



I am your lover

I am your friend

Together

We walk sands

That mend



Embers washed by morning rain

Rainbows of dreamers

Dance in vineyards the same



Cash of words remembered on a cask of wine

Each bottled empty

Became a marker of time



And the love’n

Was best between the lines

Practiced perfect

Yours and then mine

I remember raindrops
falling on a roof of tin

Sweetest of kiss

If only we could be

Back then


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03-28-2008 Frank Fields    

"Cash of words remembered on a cask of wine."

And still we wish we were, "back then."

The images are haunting, the emotions plain, the history is well told, one need but rid oneself of his or own mirrored image to find the balance and the beauty of this work.

Thank you for yet another look into the soul of Man.

Frank :)
Member of


Visitor Reads: 67
Total Reads: 74
Comments: 1

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