I saw a face…
I saw a face…
I saw a face in the distance. A beautiful tempting face.
The face brought back a sweet memory.
Was once a sweet memory.
She walked toward me, and she embraced me tightly.
She told me. “Johnnie, you are the same. Your kind face is still gentle and kind.
We faced each other like two old boxers. We did not know if we friends or foes.
I held the hug the tightly and I told her. Jenny, you are more beautiful today than the yesterday of our youth.
She gave me a sad smile, remembering the aura of our goodbye. Not a goodbye spoken.
Just allowed the highway and life to deprive us of any chance to know the torch of love. She asked me. Let’s drink some coffee and talk. I never forgot your kindness. You accepted me and treated me with love and gentleness when I was rescinding to hell.
We found a coffee shop. Her long auburn hair still ran freely and your river blue eyes could steal my soul. She showed off your long tan legs and she spoke of school and child. I listens and I daydreamed of a perfect 18 year old beauty who brought wine coolers to my apartment and she stole my heart. Taught me what love could be and could not. Love-lorn men are foolish. They believed in the kiss and embrace once. I didn’t anymore.
She looked sad and she told me. I’m sorry I didn’t allow you in. You were a wanderer. You were locked-up and tormented by work and sadness. I had just enough for me to see the daylight. You needed the sea, your wars and the journey. I would have been a heavy burden.
You asked me. What are you thinking? The heavy silence is making me talk wild and too freely. I told her. Somethings don’t support to be. You wanted everything and I wanted peace and calm. I have loved you forever and I accepted the blame for our poor ending. It is good to see you dear Jenny.
I looked into her eyes. A soft tear fell. We arose up and I kissed her lips and face many times. I held the embrace. I whispered to her. I have hopes and prayed you found joy and happiness. Took me many years and I found some comfort and peace.
We separated and I watched her walk away. She was a dream that turned a nightmare. She was my first love and my last love in my story and words. Old poet logic. Great love is never forgotten. Written by old Poets seeking places missed and you can’t return.