I remember the first time I met her gaze,
Her eyes seemed as deep as the Atlantic,
But yet greener than the new grass spring brings.
I remember the first time I made her laugh,
Hearing that was like having an orchestra of angels play Mozart,
Just a little off beat.
I remember the first time she caused me to get butterflies,
Like seeing a child laugh or smile,
The happiness grew.
I remember the first time I made her mad,
The guilt swept over me like an inevitable storm of emotions,
But that couldn't match the pain.
I remember the first time she said she loved someone,
And when that someone wasn't me,
My heart shattered and its parts scattered into oblivion.
I remember the first time she had her heart broken,
Anger ran through me like adrenaline,
So I clenched my fists and held her close.
I remember the first time I told her I loved her,
My hands trembled like a leaf,
And I nervously awaited her response.
I remember the last time she met my eyes,
My heart stopped and so did my breathing,
As she uttered the fatal words.
"I don't love you."

Let's ban poetry because it
Heals wounds without prescription,
Break borders without permission,
Adds beauty without makeup,
With words all so made up!

254

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.