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