The Summer of Love

November 9, 2007
Remembering the day when we went on our first date.
We rode together.
She was mounted high on that paint.
Posed like a model, stride in stride,
She rode with style.
I can still see her hair flowing through the wind.
Her eyes matched the beautiful shine of dew on rose buds.

Walking hand in hand, my dreams were alive.
Weak knees and cold sweats were new to me.
Two hearts pounding with no regrets,
That summer was the first time I found love.

Mildly days flew by and I’d dream she’d be my wife.
There were the nights we’d take that buckskin for a ride.
Two on one made a gentle stride.
Pounding hooves and pounding hearts were the sounds of the night.
Dancing there in that meadow, after the sun laid down,
Me and her and that pony were the only ones around.

Nights spent parked down by the ditch bank,
Where frogs would melonate.
We would dance to the sound of the radio, playing soft and slow.
Her look, her smell, the touch of her hand in mine.
But time became tangled, like braids in her hair.
Then I’d try to sneak her home, but we’d never be apart.
It wouldn’t be two minutes and I’d hear her ring tone,

Flowing from my cell phone.

Now times have changed.
Duration causes trouble sleeping through the night.
Desperation is the feeling eating me alive.
Laying there alone when I turn out the light.
Fearing all night that I’ll see her sight.
Remembering the days when contempt filled her eyes.
But those days have long past.
Days turned to night, and night turned to day.
Summer changed to fall.
And love slipped away.

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