Rite of Passage -- 03/02/09

The small college room cloaked by the dark of night slowly lit to the dawn of a new day. The night had been restless between the two of them as they slept there in bed. Much had been told in their previous day conversations, too much to assimilate in the few hours since.

He thought he would have a lifetime to devote his love to her. Her time horizon with him was far more limited in scope. Matters of love and fate leave such episodes of compassion in doubt.

This was the day of their ultimate expression of their love. It started that morning when she unexpectedly conveyed her most compassionate feelings towards him. Shocked by the escalation of her desires, he complied, unsure of where she was leading him. He followed her direction and drew a smile to her face...

This was a memory he would keep forever. He would often wonder why such risky behavior spared their destiny from further complications. In later years he came to understand the impetuous actions of the moment are no substitute for true understanding of a relationship between two people.

While that initial experience could be understood from a logical perspective, the emotional component continued to dwell within him. Time does not heal all wounds. Was it guilt driving those feelings? He wrote a poem that seems to sum it all up for him.

Two score ago
That year, our past
Time spent together
Not meant to last

Upon this date
In my recall
Our zenith of pleasure
Then our fall

She was my first
To let me in
Too overwhelming
To my chagrin

She never responded
When I did write
Yet through the years
I found the light

She found another
Our love dispersed
Still I remember
She was my first

Don