By Richard Wallace
The moon was full tonight.
I could see it from my
bedroom window;
so round and beautiful.
***
It went so well
with the sound
of the wind
in the trees, so soft.
***
That’s not why
I couldn’t sleep.
I am fourteen years old
and I am in love.
***
The boy I love
is sixteen years old.
That seems like an eternity.
He doesn’t know me.
***
He doesn’t know
who I am, what I am,
not my name,
what I believe and care about.
***
He is two grades
ahead of me.
That seems like light years
I suppose.
***
This is all
so very new to me.
I’ve never been in love,
never, not even a little.
***
I’ve never kissed
a boy.
I’ve hardly even slow danced,
not with bodies touching.
***
I told my mother
about this boy.
She said I was too young.
She dismissed me.
***
My mother let me down.
I wanted to talk to her
about love.
I guess she wasn’t ready.
***
I haven’t told
even my closest friends.
I’m afraid
they would laugh at me.
***
I am so confused
I could cry.
I am only fourteen years old
and I am in love.
Moon image by Fiona Driver
Categories: Uncategorized
You’ve done it again, Richard – such understanding…………….
“My mother let me down.
I wanted to talk to her
about love.
I guess she wasn’t ready.”
The mother is fearful – the girl needs an auntie.
You are a word-smith.
Beautiful. Takes me back to another time and another world.
Eammon, thank you for your kind comments…Did you ever see the show “Summer of 42″…another time and another world, Richard
Thank you Bernie…I think that being fourteen is a lot of work; a lot of everything. I would not want to be fourteen again….
Eamonn…I spelled your name wrong, sorry….Richard