Sweet Sixteen Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

There was a time when passion ruled our love
Hot kisses in the back seat of your car
We sat beneath the budding Linden trees
Drinking fresh beer in sparkling kegs of youth

At eighteen, you were oh, so glamorous
So recklessly I sought to give you all
We raced around the curves of nightly roads
You drove bold, daring, dashing in your way

I lied to you that I was now sixteen
And that I smoked those grown up Chesterfields
A friend soon tried to teach me how to smoke
To breathe in deep without that awful cough

Hot summer days on salty beaches bright
Were our playgrounds where we cast our fate
I in my pale blue jantzen, you so tan
Even our friends knew we were meant to be

Then as the moon and month began to wane
The dreaded birthday time was growing near
I thought no more of what might come of it
Than I had feared the lifelong curse of nicotine

So there we were, all lace and sugar cubes
Gifts, ribbons, bows and tables filled to brim
There was no warning, not in my young mind
Of what your eyes said when you first came in

You stood against the light. That's all I saw
Your eyes and face etched dark against the window
The room was full of birthday party joy
And then I felt so cold, so very cold

Nothing was said, there was no need to speak.
I tried to smile just like a birthday girl
Yet it was all over and I knew it well
And now I really needed Chesterfields

The party guests stayed on and had a time
They talked about their fun for weeks
You slipped out early (no one seemed to care)
Leaving me with just one sentence that you said
Autumn has come. The beach is empty now.
I stay at home and watch the window panes
That very window where you once had stood
And where my life now stands in frozen pain

My pale blue bathing suit fell victim to salt seas
It lies in tatters, shredded like a rag
My world has turned from summer blues and golds
To morbid brown and mottled umber hues

I cannot think of kisses and of love
Or if there's life when I reach seventeen
I only know that growing up is sad
Of longing for the things that might have been

This window is my curse, my haunting chill
Soon I will leave this place, I'm sure
But will those words you said on that last day
Follow like so many daggers in my heart?

Remember how your words were almost lost
Amid the gaily chatting party guests
You said it in a whisper, very low
'But I didn't bring a birthday present.'