Nineteen sixty-nine. The autumn fair was in Athens.
I was sixteen. You had finished your senior year.
You threw well aimed darts, and loaded my arms
with cheap stuffed toys; soft treasures for my bed.
Arms and objections occupied, I leaned tight
while you held me from behind, whispering
unfamiliar syllables into my warming ear.
I remember your hands, and how I wanted
the force of them firm around my breasts;
fingertips exploring chilled hard nipples.
Old enough to want, too young to recognize
the scent you were leaving on my expectations.
You stood silhouetted against carnival lights;
Ferris wheel colors haloing your dark hair.
I grabbed my instamatic; snapped a hunk of you
as you left for California. And I am still here.
(©2008)
A lovely poem..a memory of youth as if it was yesterday........1969....... the isle wight festival.. dylan etc.....many memories of those years.........10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Terrific write. 'the scent you were leaving on my expectations' very nice. Jim