First love.

First love.

A Poem by Beccy

I saw you in the high street today.
A fleeting glimpse, little more than
a reflection in a shop window;
a momentary flicker frame
of recognition, followed
by the faintest of hesitations,
that caused my heart to almost cease.
Then, you were gone without trace,
like dropped ash from a cigarette end.

Later, in a different reflection,
I saw us in photographs.
They were sepia, grained with age;
And you were so handsome,
me, so elegant in a 1920's
gold and blue Cocktail Dress,
and as casual chatter drifted,
we danced, lighter than air.
But it was hardly a memory,
let alone a reality.

So instead, I imagined the ocean.
Fathomless; me sinking into its depths,
meeting all manner of strange
creatures on my journey;
giving no thought to
how I was still breathing,
the coolness on my skin,
the darkness descending.
But it was only the turning
of pages in my book;
a reverie, not a reality.

Then, as I sought sleep, I saw you again,
the bloom of youth still on your cheeks;
and you were Cezanne's
'The Boy in the Red Vest.'
Frozen by time, posed as you
were in those photographs,
my words unable to reach you,
let alone lead you back to my arms,
and my eyes became like pieces of glass,
all brittle with the rainfall of love.

Maybe one day, before I become thin veined,
I will pen you an anonymous billet-doux.
Hope you might recognise my hand from the
notes I made in your school exercise book.
Those silly little pencilled in hearts
that led to our first ever kiss;
hesitant, but like the first opening
of a newborn child's eyes,
never to be forgotten.

Then again, perhaps I should leave things lie.
A capture on canvas of a boy at his desk,
a young girl, scribbling when opportunity came.
Allow that our worlds have moved on,
that memories have just as rich fruits
to cull as realities; and that divination,
that most ancient and precarious
of arts, is, in the end,
best left to the imagination.

© 2020 Beccy


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Featured Review

So this is what a woman's not-so-secret secret reverie is like.
To be sure, a gifted woman who writes brilliant poetry.
From what I can gather, first loves are almost always more about being in love with love than
the supposed object of our affections; an object we, thoroughly
and conveniently, idealize.

Posted 1 Month Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I have poems not yet posted here of crossing paths with suitors so I enjoyed your fabulous poem recollecting and reminiscing the moments in a beautiful way, so poetic and then your considering reviving lost feelings but later leaving it to dreams and imagination all so superbly portrayed.
I ESP liked the photographs lines, the sepia and the rest. Kudos!!


Plz pleez do read and comment my newest poem too.

Posted 2 Weeks Ago


So elegant with so many layers. So beautiful replete with so many memories. So amazingly composed with so much angaement for the reader. Wonderful piece. One of my favorites of yours.

Posted 2 Weeks Ago


This is very lovely and accomplished Beccy. Our first love occupies a special place somewhere in our memory and can last a lifetime. You have given us many great metaphors to describe how this relationship feels.
All the best,
Alan

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


Should I admit that my first love was my pa? Well, he was! When over the years, I look back I realise that his being gave me a few questions to ponder over during my life! Not father paranoid but, guiding star perhaps.

Your stanzas - each one majestically put and pictured,travels time and impression so strongly, every word delicately, clearly put. But, the way in which you've written makes me wonder why the memories are still something to wonder about. The imagination has a lot to answer for. Keep safe, friend.

Posted 4 Weeks Ago


Beccy

3 Weeks Ago

Love is such a complex and many faceted emotion; and as daughters, we must be ever grateful for th.. read more
emmajoy

3 Weeks Ago

Hugs and thanks for your response, Beccy.. Strange and often beautiful how memories linger.. our he.. read more
emmajoy

3 Weeks Ago

Sunday.. waving hello and happy be!
I liked the charm and wistful, delicate touch of this memoir... reflecting with such such fragile tenderness, such nostalgia for a dream that turns sepia with time. To capture the moments in words and images - the ash, the brittle glass, the 'rainfall of love', the newborn child - all is exquisitely crafted into a poem of beauty, dignity and genuine feeling.

Posted 1 Month Ago


I see you are 43 & I was 63 two days ago . . . in that intervening 20 years, so much slips away! I wish I could remember such a plethora of detail from ANY encounter of my entire life (forget about remembering my first love back in the stone ages!) I love how you look at "first love" from many angles & perspectives, using comparison & analogy. I love how you show the current moment at first, how this encounter comes about, then you delve into layer after layer of the aftershocks, the way we remember more & more about a situation as it simmers in our synapses a while. Your trajectory of words resembles the trajectory of how our minds nibble into some big mysterious memory, digging it up more & more vividly (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 1 Month Ago


Amazing how
the first kiss
that first love
leads our imagination
on that onward journey
memories to hold onto

Love the line
brittle with the
rainfall of love
so nicely expressed




Posted 1 Month Ago


It's that sixty-four thousand dollar question, should I pursue it.
You hear of people who have married yet always longed for their first love, meet up years later and reconnect. I suppose facebook makes that a lot easier. I suppose life has a crazy way of making decisions for you. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

Posted 1 Month Ago


What a beautiful reverie, Beccy. The theme is one that can fall prey to cliche, but this is a really thoughtful and insightful poem. There is a novel in here somewhere, and I love how you let your imagination roam beguilingly as the piece developed.

Best, Jamie x

Posted 1 Month Ago


So this is what a woman's not-so-secret secret reverie is like.
To be sure, a gifted woman who writes brilliant poetry.
From what I can gather, first loves are almost always more about being in love with love than
the supposed object of our affections; an object we, thoroughly
and conveniently, idealize.

Posted 1 Month Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on June 24, 2020
Last Updated on July 6, 2020

Author

Beccy
Beccy

Northampton, Northamptonshire, United Kingdom



About
I'm forty three, single and have a lovely thirteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and re.. more..

Writing
Remembering Remembering

A Poem by Beccy



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