First Love

When at school I first saw your face,
You were apart from the crowd with your feminine grace.
You had many friends and admirers in tow,
I watched you bloom and into a woman grow.

When in class, you made me blush,
As walking past my desk you'd brush.
You never knew the effect that you had,
The nearness of you made me feel so glad.

You loved to dance and play the flute,
I watched from afar, you looked so cute.
I took a while to ask you out,
When you agreed I'd scream and shout.

We'd go to a movie or sometimes a show,
We loved to hold hands when in the back row.
The greatest thrill I've ever known,
Is to sense our love as it's steadily grown.

Through fields of waving grass we'd run,
Weaving and hiding, having so much fun.
In the brook we'd often swim,
In your little bikini, you were cool and trim.

Your Dad used to lecture us such a lot,
When alone in the dark we'd sometimes be caught.
But I'd promise you were safe when out for a walk,
As all we would do was talk and talk.

It's three years now and tomorrow we'll wed,
When at last you'll be mine after the vows are said.
You know I'll always love you forever and a day,
Until my last breath is taken away.

Written & (c) John McKay Withey.  1994

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Comments (7)
  • Hello, My name is Naomi Mclaurence from Ivory Coast, living in Senegal Dakar. I was delighted when i saw your profile in lovelandia.com and after going through it then i decided to contact you so that we can be best of friends and i will like to know you better. i will like you to reply me through my private email box(naomi_mclaurence @ yahoo.com)Or you can contact me through (naomimclaurence@hotmail.fr) so that we can communicate further and i will give you my picture and also tell you more about myself. Thanks, excepting to receive your reply soon. Miss. Naomi.
    • It is with the greatest respect that I write this comment and share with you the feelings this poem evoked in me. It is sweet in these days of uncertainty; calm in the storm; a balm to my soul when I have been working with a teenager (foster) who knows nothing of the joy of love, life and assurance. I share these special things (such as your poem) with her in the hope that she will see all that life has to give, not just take. On a more personal note: Before I read your biography, I knew that you were of the Isles with just the pureness of your words! My husband is also of that nature (and the Isles!) In addition, this poem portrays my parents perfectly, sweetly, and will always bring their memory to mind! Thank you for a lift to my days. Laura from California
      • I am delighted that you feel this poem may have some influence with your fostered teenager. With all the dangerous distractions that yougsters are subject to, especially the internet, many of them are seeing and reading very unsavoury subjects. I read a newspaper article recently where a thirteen year old was logged on to the internet for FIFTY hours in one week and there was nothing her parents could do to stop her and seemingly this is quite common with many teenagers. Blatant irresponsible parenting! Is the word "NO " no longer in our vocabulary? I always think that it takes a big heart to be a foster parent to a little soul who has been so traumatised before they are taken into a loving home. I wrote "Little Girl Damaged" after I read a true account about one of these broken souls. At times the damage is just too severe. God bless. I sincerely hope your love and devotion is absorbed by your little lady. John.
        • this poem reminds me of a hot spring day in a field with my love and just the smell of the grass that u describe makes me smile and tingle in my fingertips.
          • Glad this gave you happy memories. Certain smells, sounds, tastes, or sights trigger a distant, happy memory. John.