...if my heart could beat...

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First Love


He came into a shady clearing—

Brumal, fallow, most endearing;

Brought about by stoic longing

And an amorous deplore.


He called out to her—

Sweetly, gently;

Singing to her so intently.

Floating each note only after

Placing them before


Her in a manner so appealing,

So austere and so revealing,

That she glared upon his whistle

And she beamed upon his score.


He fell into an irksome hush,

Pronounced then by the telling blush,

That graced his chest and preserved his heart,

Which sputtered its harmonic part.


Slowly her warmth

Began to die,

Her arms reached out

To wave good-bye.

He stood and watched her,

As she left,

Feeling accord,

And yet bereft.


And as the robin tried to recall,

He wondered if she

had been there at all.


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