Back Then

[litlover]

I didn't know the word then,
Now I know that you were - buxom.
Blonde mane loose, those brown clips
Were meant for sisters, spinsters,
Never you.

At seventeen, I know you loved me.
You wrecked my pre-punk hair
With red, red fingernails.
I'd have resented that from others,
Never you.

I know, because you
Called me by my name.
Other barmaids said Love,
Or Son, forgot I reddened easily,
Never you.

Last night- years from seventeen,
We laughed about my crush.
Tears hung in your blue eyes. You said
How old you'd grown - Oh no.
Never you.

[Rosalind]

Very nice--it has a great voice. I like your imagery, too, and how you managed to get the mood across without getting melodramatic or angsty.

[litlover]

Thank you, Rosalind. I tried to convey some feelings which are sometimes hard to capture without mawkishness and sentimentality. Glad you felt I have succeeded and really appreciate the time taken to read and comment. If you have anything you would like me to take a look at I'd be happy to oblige. Nice to meet you and thanks again.

LL

[Darlin]

Litlover! You've quite a lot of talent! I really enjoyed this. Wistful and lovely! :D

[litlover]

Thank you Darlin. I appreciate anyone who reads my efforts and am ecstatic when they take time to comment. So forgive the tardiness of this reply. The poem had sunk down to lie amongst the forgotten little pieces at the bottom of the board where few venture but I am glad I spotted it and I thank you again for
taking time to remark upon it.

LL