When I was young
I loved a little red haired girl
Who never touched me
Physically
But left deep impressions
Upon my mind
Softening the harshness of time

I loved the blond girl to
For her brightness
And individuality
With different vibrant
Hats

When I was twenty
I loved a seventeen year old
Who turned eighteen and left
Who promised nothing
And broke my heart

I thought I loved a girl I knew
Three times and more
I went back to
But it was a wretched attempt
To fight off loneliness and lust

I loved another of no real note
Except for the knot in my throat
She played me better then
A country fiddle
At twenty three

I am thirty four
And in eleven years
I have not loved another
And I think I never will
Except in distance and admiration
In respect and goodwill
The general poetic platitude
Of loving everyone
Even Though I do not know everyone