The teenage girl in this poem, was the person who started me off writing, in early 1972. At the time I was in Newtown, Waterford, a co-ed boarding school. We re-united only once, for a few hours, in 1980. After our meal we parted and bit back the tears. Another Newtonian one-time girlfriend and old scholar traced my muse online. I wrote a card….
Illustration by Katyazhu.com
Boarding school was where we met,
breaking co-ed apartheid rules,
snogging, smoking illicit cigarettes,
Black Sabbath sure sounded cool.
My teenage hands sneaked under
your virgin-white school shirt,
addicted to soft feminine wonder
leaving behind tears and hurt.
This boy’s boorish heart unkind,
your overdose drama failed,
my promiscuity selfish and blind,
close to the edge i sailed.
Our reconciliation was short,
weeks later your ran away,
I was certainly not the safe port
where your heart could safely stay.
You found my much-rumoured verse,
classroom bin unemptied that week,
my forced rhyming I quietly cursed
– why am I fool-quick to speak?
Forty years later I fondly recall,
on a web-page I see you smile,
skinny, upturned nose and all,
still you dress with such style.
My short note tentatively sealed,
male vain, I hoped for reply;
with prayers, this prodigal appealed:
no second chance, no nuanced why.