Am reposting this one from way back for the fun of it...
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 the 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 2018 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved
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