What’s That Wrong With Time? Poem by Persa Corbalokovic

We were just kids when he asked me
‘One, just one little kiss, c’mon gimme’,
Thought how mature was to ask for a kiss,
When others worried if a ball would miss.
So I gave him that one kiss, and another,
Until we were seen in a mall – my mother,
Who else, she said – ‘you are too young’.
A whole week passed before his body clung
To mine again, and again; liked the feeling,
Of his little, bumbling hands when searching.
Nothing is so sweet like the forbidden fruit
Couldn’t stop thinking of how he was cute.
We seemed lost, but knew our young love,
Was precious; having each other was above
All we had up to then; so I let him search
And talk nonsense, he mentioned church.
We were so young, how could we know,
We had to wait for our bodies to grow.
I was only sixteen when I got our baby.
Wasn’t sure if that search was maybe
The cause; and my folks got so heated.
Told me awful things, that I was cheated.
Lastly they said I could stay, go on living
But never to see him, never again clinging
Around; God I felt so desperate, so adrift,
But my child would’ve been given short shrift,
So I stayed, did everything my folks wanted.
Tho’ we moved, you bet I was still haunted.
I tried to forget, but our son was there -
Each look at him made me ask ‘where
Oh, where are you my love, my precious? ’
Time flew. We moved to suburbs, gracious.
I met a nice young man, serious and good,
Pretty rich, and always in a joyful mood.
We got married, were blessed with five kids.
That man made me truly happy, all his deeds.
He passed away a day after he had learned
About another grandson – his honesty earned
All those benisons – he was calm, left in peace.
Now it’s my turn to go. I’m waiting for release
And while waiting, I wasn’t remembering all
Sixty years with my man, but crossed the wall
And like he was there I saw my first sweetheart,
Handsome, and courageous, above all smart,
My first truelove begging to love me, be loved
Like it was yesterday, I let him love, was loved
Remembered every second of our short life
And each second I missed him felt like a knife.
I ask you now – what’s that wrong with time?
How can one forget sixty years spent in accord,
And die thinking of the first kiss, I’m coming Lord …