The tenderness of youth often blinds us to the true nature of love. We chase the flame, relishing the passion, mistaking infatuation for something deeper. Yearning for connection, we grasp at fleeting moments of enchantment, cherishing the illusion of a love that will last forever. But first love, more often than not, is a training ground, a place where we learn the language of the heart, even if the words are sometimes mispronounced. It leaves its mark, a scar both visible and internal, a reminder of the intensity of those early emotions. We carry these experiences with us, shaping our understanding of what love can be.
Later in life, the landscape of the heart is different. Scars are visible, stories etched into the lines around our eyes. The flame of youth may burn a little less brightly, but in its place, a deeper warmth emerges. We have learned to distinguish between infatuation and true connection, to recognize the difference between fleeting passion and enduring tenderness. The yearning remains, but it is tempered by experience, a knowing that love is not just a feeling, but a choice.
And then, unexpectedly, it happens. A connection sparks, a resonance that transcends the years. It may not be the first love of youthful memory, but it carries a different kind of magic. It is a love seasoned by life, enriched by shared experiences, and grounded in mutual understanding. There is a cherishing that comes with knowing the fragility of time, a relish for the present moment, and a passion that burns with a steady, unwavering flame.
This love, found later in life, is a testament to the enduring power of the human heart. It is a first true love, a love that encompasses all the lessons learned, all the scars endured, and all the yearnings finally fulfilled. It is a love that whispers, "You are home," a love that promises, "This is forever." It is a love that proves that first love can happen at any age, and that true love is always worth waiting for.
From my lessons in Picadilly's Write the Poem
