Always Say 'I'm Sorry'

Like a chain as strong as its weakest link,

So is the way of a man's pride -- in the trust

Others bestow, caring what others think.

When duty fails, he earns only mistrust.

So it was with my teen years as manhood

Blossomed in my chest. I betrayed the heart

Of a sweet girl. I shined as best I could.

I was shy, trying hard to play a part.

Only a crush -- was I in love with love?

This joy like God in heaven might disclose

For me seemed to be blessings from above.

My first love. Already everyone knows.

Embarrassing moments and loss for words

Soon give way to lengthy talks on the phone.

Expressing our feelings like two love birds,

Adult words of caution fall like a stone.

Hand in hand, a fumbling kiss on the stair,

Overcome by the sweep of the moment,

Quickly friends come with titillating dare.

One betrayal can destroy love's moment.

The red-faced smiles of childish innocence,

The chasing and the crude locker room jokes,

This naive boy blushes in strained silence

When twisted words echo like a cruel hoax.

Unguarded feelings, comment that belies,

Teasing classmates with perverted delight

Cold-fuse the pain of us lovers' first fight.

The only truth is the tears in our eyes.

Then quickly she and kin move away.

With deep unheeded urge to make amends

Over the years, the painful tale extends.

No word. I will apologize one day.

But all is not lost, the lesson well learned.

Each tear a new insight into romance.

And all to teach this man that any chance

At true love in time to come must be earned.

Full life -- children, career, I am a success;

But somewhere  deep inside, a gnawing need

To say "I'm sorry" festers with distress.

Without the closure, the ache won't recede.

Then discussion of a class reunion

Rings like a tiny bell. A woman's name,

Rush of emotion. Could it be the same?

A faltering call, long wait, confusion.

The voice comes softly, reflecting the years.

A taped message. I can feel the time near.

It is she, and the voice is warm and clear.

I record my request, fighting my fears.

Cruel fate again intrudes. She calls as asked,

But untended cell phone can't set me free.

For days, I call and call. She's there at last.

My forty-year ache fades with "I'm sorry."

Author's Note

Memories come filtered through layers of hang-ups and mistaken impressions. No two people likely remember a shared experience the same way. Still, indelible imprints we carry with us to the end.