Can the thrill of young love be rediscovered? Let's try!

Now is the summer of sixteen
Eyes stuck on a girl in a short tan skirt,
White blouse,
Red lips,
Brown eyes,
And a smile that comes fast and easy…

A chiding inner voice shouts, “Seize the day!”

Butterflies, ignoring unconscious thoughts
Rise and flutter,
My courage follows close behind,
The opportunity squandered in their wake.

My pillow kept its secrets
Until I outgrew it and left both bed and home,
Life tugging at my limbs,
Stretching the flesh across my adolescent bones.

I still wonder where she is.

And having wandered the world miles and years alone,
I have kept that summer moment buried in a mason jar,
Buried beneath a great white oak,
And there, the memory remained for a very long time.

And now I’m thinking,
It could have been a Saturday evening
A week or so ago,
When, something stirred inside my skin.
I will recount it as a vague,
Yet magical moment,
When hands dug deep into the earth
And though a dozen lovers had come and gone
There within the mud-stained jar
The rosy cheeks,
The ruby lips,
The eyes…
That beautiful, youthful smile,
The feelings began flooding in
Unchanged,
Uncharted.

I loosed the lid, cradling it like a vintage wine.
Pressed it to my lips then drank it in,
Every sassy sip of it!

Retrieving the essence of this adolescent recollection
I was awakened, senses heightened,
And having done so, halleluiah, I was born again!

At this point, I had come to realize
That this was not just any love,
Not the seductive pleasures of the flesh,
Not the mortal desire to make a domestic impression,
To find normalcy or to fulfill some social obligation.

The old emotions course through me now,
Pulse in my veins.
They carry me far beyond the day-to-day,
The mundane chapters of my cold and dreary past.
Life lived detached, encumbered by that
Seldom acknowledged, soul numbing pain.
Today heartache has loosened its talon grip,
Cynicism falls,
Clouds stripped of rain.

Living with my lesser expectations,
I had never allowed myself to truly feel this kind of love.
They say you can never go back,
But here I am again!

The difference, that of dark to light,
The potion greedily consumed.
Under the influence of this potent spirit,
I climb to dizzy heights, then soar, a rocket to the moon!

By way of this supernova metamorphous metaphor
The universe has changed!
It’s all too clear…

I now have this extraordinary power
In the palm of my hands - I hold it here!

And I know what it is that I posses,
This love of innocence,
The simple awareness of this fragile cup,
Beauty to eye, smooth to touch,
Poised in anticipation, purposely waiting,
Eager for the chance to be filled.
I visualize this newly blossomed flower,
I see the blush of bloom, unspoiled.

No braver now than then,
I look around to see if she sees me.
Déjà vu,
It’s truly destiny that we should meet like this.
Alas, those pesky butterflies are back once more,
And tiny wings stir up a tidal wave of inner
Apprehension.

“Do not concern yourself with us,”
They say this time around.
“Do not conceal the passion that you feel,
The longings of your heart.
We shall not deter you from your quest.
Our part is only to remind you
That these emotions often proceed
A deeper mystical connection.”

“Do not ignore the scent of jasmine when it blooms
Or avoid the pricking of the rose’s thorn.
Do not rebuke the clamoring of youth
Or fear the possibility of denial.
Come what may, life is too short!”

“Remember that lost summer’s day?
Risk is but an elephant standing beside the road.
Do not think to hesitate.

You are so close.

Know this smile is meant for you,
And simply say,
“Hello!”



Michael S. True
8-30-06 last edit 8-27-13