All things considered

I wrote this poem 27 years ago when I was 15. It was my very first published poem - published in a university poetry rag in Manhattan KS.

There was a time when there was nothing more 

than the heat of the summer 

his hand under her shirt 

skin against skin 

and all things considered life was good 

But that was the summer of music and war 

where every day brought a new demand from a world 

that he was just beginning to understand 

not her though she was content 

her head filling with ideas 

his hand filling with what made sense

--william paris