Blooming From A Bud Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Gone.
To not return again.
A puppy love.
First to feel the affects of it.
And one's heart that breaks.
Left and done by someone,
One promises never to forget.
But gone to not remember,
What it was to wish...
For that touch and lips to kiss.
Hoping to get each day and forever.

Gone.
To not return again.
Those smiling dancing eyes.
Gazed into and hypnotizing.
And the excitement and what it was like,
To anticipate the freshness of Spring.
Gone.
To not remember.
The sighting of a Robin.
Or enjoying to hear chirping birds sing.
Since the blooming from a bud to blossom,
Has begun to fade youthful memories.
As the setting of the Sun each day,
Seems to become...
More noticeably done.
Quicker.
Than what had been easier,
With time to give and reminisce.