by Emily Page

A quiet boy, thoughtful. He knows his own mind.
No brighter scholar can anyone find.
Intelligent, young and oh so naive,
That she might love him, so hard to believe.

Says he wants to be friends, doesn’t want to commit
He can’t understand why she’s having a fit.
She loves him, she’s told him, does he have no respect?
Can she alone have felt them connect?

A lad, a player, a jock, quite the guy!
A summer of sun, sand and sex, well there’s mud in your eye.
A stroll or a swagger, it’s so hard to tell
So much more attractive though, and he does it so well.

He wants more than friendship, this time he is clear.
The promise not yet known as his lips hover near.
He woos her, with postcards and calls from afar
He whispers sweet somethings as they kiss under stars.

Then summer is over, back to school they must go.
A fleeting first romance is ended thus, so.
Was it revenge? Can he imagine her pain?
He just walked away, never stopped to explain.

So like thousands of others who’ve been there before
She wept and she wailed until tears were no more.
And he carried on with his life and his plans
While her love for him an eternity spans.

© Emily Page

2 Comments to “Transition”

  1. Oh, wow, perfection in poetry…!

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