-- First Love --
John Herlihy
The seedlings of first love,
Planted in the lonely soul.
The first flight of the dove,
Searching to become whole.
Youth’s happy years spent,
But only one thing missing.
True love never before lent,
The one longed for blessing.
Life’s fabric is still not torn,
Such fine weave yet unspun.
First love is yet to be born,
Such intimacy still unwrung.
A seed planted in soil sure,
A weave woven in cloth pure.
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(c) John Herlihy 7 March 2020
Stephen
Rebecca
Sandie