It was the days of elementary
This new sentiment felt but not truly understood
The first pull of the feminine mystique
Blonde and blue eyed captured more than I could articulate
She was intriguing
I was the boy on puppet strings
Something in the way we were, always inseparable
She led me under that elderly oak tree by the hand
Under its boughs, its sway and shadows
A simple kiss
No fireworks so to speak
No expectations to frame upon
Old sweet memories revived
I wonder… how many first kisses did that old tree smile upon
I wonder if it still stands there today?
Ah! Sweet Arden, pray that life has been good to you
Thank you for the memory!
Copyright 2014
Wandering Satellite Publishing
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