First Love Poem by Barry Middleton

first love is the smell of her hair
because she is not ready for a kiss

later the two of you write
that was what you did back then

even a letter is like eyes meeting
she touches the paper with perfume

mile adds to mile and year to year
she will go her way and you yours

but when you are alone and old
some winter nights you will recall

auburn curls brushing your cheek
dancing in spring with her mystery