My Book

My Book

 

If I were to write

A book about love,

It would have to be

    about you;

 

And yet, when I think

of those days long ago,

I realize how little

     I knew;

 

But the fact still remains,

that for me, the faint strains

of a girl’s first true love

     echo through;

 

And my book about love,

unfulfilled as it was,

would show ecstasy, pain...

     and you.