This poem begins with a girl, barely 14 naive, rich, white in Los Angeles suburbia. With a boy, 16, nearly a man, poor, Southern, sweet doe eyed in pain. This poem begins, with a first love, and a last with a broken heart that, with tender hands she healed as best she could. The legacy of three years of love fifteen and broken, then she wept. This poem begins with clutched agony only a young mother can know. A child lost. Blood sucked life out of bright veins. They cradled their love as best they could for however long they knew they didn't have. Months past, he found another Years past, and many lovers daily phone calls turned weekly, monthly, and so on. This poem begins with a road less traveled, the heart of girl that began loving, and the heart of a woman that will never stop. (c) 2001 by (++)Laura(++). All Rights Reserved