First Love

Inspired by Nessa O'Mahony's "First Love" and Keats' "La Belle Dame sans Merci."

My first love? Since you ask-

was Maverick, gambler and gunslinger.

His poker hand could set Mississippi ablaze

and his wrist speed to holster was slick.

I sent him a pic of myself, aged nine

sitting on a rock at Portrush.

He didn’t write back.

My next love was hell bent

on Holy Orders.

I attended his ordination.

Enough said.

Then there was the bow-legged

Gilbert O’Sullivan look-a-like minus piano

Whose every stride I shadowed around the town.

My mother said I’d wear myself thin with unrequited lust.

I did. 

Until a hairy-faced biker

whisked me off on his Honda 50

and meteors struck and I saw shooting stars.

I came to on a cold hillside

alone and palely loitering.

I was a slow learner...

Copyright with Cathy leonard 2018