Your red L.L. Bean hangs low on your back, dirty sneakers shuffling the cool tile floor,
Your maturing face perfect in its flaws; I watch and envy your limitless capacity.
I avert my open eyes now, exuberant shyness shouting from my every pore,
I’ll tell you that I love you, oh my immature audacity!
Your brown almond eyes, lock into my green peering sunflowers,
And here I am invincible, and here you make me weak.
You smile and I stand at your mercy, under your power,
My brain bombarded by desire, I open my mouth and cannot speak.
Then in history class, your fingers meet the contours of my spine,
You think I’m beautiful! As fire flies through my every fiber,
Our skin melts beyond the frosty field; your hand and mine now intertwine.
Mom I really need you now, you’ve been here before, be my advisor!
I tell her I stand now before you completely exposed,
I must protect my beating heart she says, for I wear my affections on my tongue.
And though sounding in my sentiments, to her and to friends, as cliché and composed,
I proudly bask as a captivated captive, imprisoned by love so new and so young.
And if this that which we share the cynics call immature and untrue,
I never want to grow old and skeptical, and I never will, so long as I’m with you.