Aug 2015
(1)
The tremulous reaction
to her guileless approach;
the terrible attraction,
the terror of her touch
the unaccustomed measure
of closed lips taking aim;
the merest feather pressure
and I fled home in shame.
(2)
Her lips touched mine
as soft and gentle
as the feathered brush
of a butterfly’s wings,
and then they parted
oh, so slightly,
and I froze
and turned
and ran away.
And through the decades
that have since elapsed,
one thought is ever present
with me.
What if I had
simply responded
at that time?
How might my life
have changed?
The tremulous reaction
to her guileless approach;
the terrible attraction,
the terror of her touch
the unaccustomed measure
of closed lips taking aim;
the merest feather pressure
and I fled home in shame.
(2)
Her lips touched mine
as soft and gentle
as the feathered brush
of a butterfly’s wings,
and then they parted
oh, so slightly,
and I froze
and turned
and ran away.
And through the decades
that have since elapsed,
one thought is ever present
with me.
What if I had
simply responded
at that time?
How might my life
have changed?
I was asked to write some verse on the subject of "My First Kiss" and suddenly my memory winged back to a childhood game of Postman's Knock. I was no more than 10! It was an astounding revelation that the incident had so embedded itself in my subconscious that I remained unaware of it throughout my life, yet it may have influenced my subsequent behaviour.
(London, England)
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