PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Lady Jamie (your other name, Smith-Jackson),

you were my early teenaged years' attraction.

Your poignant gaze, and shy and winsome smile

were more gentle than local girls' (whose guile

and rage preyed on the awkward dweebs like me,

with an "almost like fine art" cruelty,

that forced me to late nights of fantasy:

I can confess that now for what it means).

No ostentation marred your modest clothes---

a long-sleeved oxford shirt, bell bottom jeans,

and ordinary supermarket hose

(the kind with reinforcements at the toes),

shoeless and, from a morning's walk, grass-stained.

Across town, though I had not yet obtained

knowledge about her, Lady Certainly

lived and, in time, became my final love:

a lad, I did not quite know where or when.

My peers' remarks were always quick to shove

Hope off.  "Future" was too far:  until then,

I often thought of you in pastel scenes;

or brilliant sunlight and the varied greens

of some protected garden, to which foes

had no admittance, nor some enemy---

whose mocking manner might disturb our peace.

Starward

[jlc]