In the careless spring of youth
When my heart was new
Before it knew
I stumbled off my feet
So simply sweet
For him
For him I laughed
For him I sang
And would have given all
But he did not fall
No, he did not fall
For me
So young, his heart, was old
In contrast, mine was new
He knew what I did not
For he had stumbled
Right off his feet
So simply sweet
Oh, she was his one
His lovely
His only
She was his love
She was spring
And spring was she
When she laughed
The birds
Would sing
And when she smiled
The bells
Would ring
The sun
Would shine
On everything
For when she walked
And where she walked
She walked in spring
Softly sweetly
Footsteps fell
In them followed spring
She walked away
His heart once young
Now knows too well
I look behind me
As I walk with hope
To see there spring
But it is never there
No, it is never there
I do not walk in spring
Birds do not sing
Bells do not ring
I am not his spring
So young, his heart is old
Likewise, mine is too
I know what I did not
Oh, I had stumbled
Right off my feet
So simply sweet
For he was my one
My lovely
My only
He was my love
He was spring
And spring was he
When he laughed
The birds
Would sing
And when he smiled
The bells
Would ring
The sun
Would shine
On everything
For when he walked
And where he walked
He walked in spring
Softly sweetly
Footsteps fell
In them followed spring
He walked away
My heart once young
Now knows too well
Still I ache to be
His one and lovely
Be his only
I long to be
I long to walk
Sing and ring and shine
I long to laugh
And smile and walk
I long to be his spring
The story behind this poem is not true, though as I write it and read it, it feels very real to me. As luck would have it inspiration struck at a Jazz concert and I did not have pen, paper, nor handy computer with which to give life to the fleeting thought before it was lost forever to the black hole that is my memory. So there I was in the hallway outside the auditorium furiously typing away on my phone trying to preserve the lines flying through my head while at the same time trying to listen to the music wafting through the door. I felt like a miserable excuse for an appreciator of the arts but I think it was worth it. Now, several drafts later my baby is still not complete but I am sharing it with you. I welcome all advice and criticism but please be kind, like I said it is my baby. Enjoy.