Teenage Love
He loves me...he loves me not...
Love starts as an insignificant seed.
A wishful prayer,
a tiny fire,
a playful giggle,
a rosy blush,
a risky wink,
or a kindly smile.
He loves me...he loves me not...
Friendship buds.
A tender understanding,
a growing warmth,
a gentle trust.
He loves me...he loves me not...
The bud opens its first petals to a pair of sparkling eyes
which twinkle with a new passion.
A passion that overcomes all sense until finally
a risky chance is
taken.
He loves me...he loves me not...
the rose opens into a beautful, ruby, blossom.
Everything else in the world becomes
lost in a crazy, wild nonsense
a happy oblivion of exhilaration
complete and total
joy.
A sweet, innocent kiss
in the moonlight
seals the mutual promises
of never-ending fidelity.
Cherish.
Honor.
Protect.
Forever...or until
The blossom wilts,
and the petals fade,
and the promises break,
but the memmories
of sunlight and blue sky
remain fragrant
preserved in the petals
of sachets
stuffed in the back of your sock drawer
and your heart *
