Those summer nights of hide and seek where we were willing quarry,
our efforts to make curfew were too often dilatory.
Our neighborhood adventures stretched out under the stars—
those shadowed venturings abroad, hiding behind cars,
in barrow pits or hedges, darting through the dark,
avoiding passing car lights and the dog’s insistent bark.
Bigger kids the kingpins of this nightly sequestering,
lying still as death with our fears of capture festering.
That titillating strain of remaining undetected,
somehow in our memories has made us more connected.
How we so consistently lay spread out on the ground
cowering, but secretly hoping to be found
by that special someone who, in our pre-teen flush
even then, in passing, could bring about our blush.
All this search and parrying that we called summer games
very soon would fill our lives called by other names.
After the dance, we walked the streets all the long night through,
moving to a doorstep to avoid the cleaning crew.
You let me rabbit on about every silly thing,
then made your wordless statement as the morning birds took wing.
Lifting through the rising sun, they faded into mist,
unaffected by the fact that I had just been kissed.
Then you restored my fallen hat, my scattered keys and purse,
that morning without equal in my young universe.
Dashing the Hopes of a First-time Suitor
She finds your fawning chivalry to be rather monotonous,
your brain quite adolescent and your physique quite neotonous.
Your compulsion to be healthy to her seems dull and boring,
which prompts my speculation that you likely won’t be scoring.
jdb Photo: Photo is for illustration only. In no way is the poem intended to represent the two lovely young people it depicts. The prompts today are speculate, health, chivalry and monotonous. The links are:
I wish I’d set the truth aside.
I wish instead that I had lied
when you asked the reason why
I didn’t choose the other guy.
I wish I’d said you’d won my heart
quickly, from the very start.
But, alas, I told the truth.
Blame it on my careless youth.
It was, perhaps, naïveté
that made me answer you that way.
I said you were my second choice,
then heard that quaver in your voice.
For all those years forever after,
I’ve recalled your bitter laughter
as you said you guessed you’d wait
for the type of girl who’d rate
you first when making her selection,
and thus began your swift defection.
After all these years, I’ll tell
that I remember very well
regrets I suffered at your leaving—
all those nights of futile grieving.
Watching as you met your wife,
had your kids and built your life.
Every few years at class reunions
as we all share our fond communions,
I’ll catch your eye and feel the spark
that goes unnoticed in the dark.
And every day, until I die,
I’ll wish I’d told that little lie.
The prompt: Write about a conversation you wish you’d never had. For Matt’s Daily Inkling prompt.