I remember my first love,
she came without a song;
no fanfare in her entrance,
but I saw in her, no wrong.

In time my heart was captured,
she was lovely and pronounced;
I was smitten and bewildered,
as my desire pounced.

For twelve years that it lasted,
the cup of love just flowed;
but came the day of reckoning,
we paid back the price we owed.

Love falls too hard for lovers,
when they drift and crumble;
they're left without an anchor,
too proud to say they're humble.

Now, first love's but a thought,
recessed   far in my mind;
as the birth of love is magic,
so is the ending, too unkind.