The Joy Of Firsts Poem by james watkin

1/

The joy of firsts, which sadly
One cannot encore.
First heard greetings; bird-spoke glee.
O'er the nursery.

First skipped for this, as high screamed
Ball-bouncings' sky-fall.
And that, biked, dim corner-rounding.
Where thrill's chills begin!

And first, o'er which frog-spawned place
First, for puddle leapt
When the raincloud blows on through
Clears; for rainbow's view.

2/

It was great; it was wondrous.
It was o'erbearing strange.
What both did exhilarate
And nigh through nerves derange!

Which world-sealed door, kept one in
A frozed for fearing's state
Firstly, lastly, burst with an
Onrush of the elate.