the most beautiful love story

My first kiss was in early June, 

on a dock in the late afternoon sun.  

I had walked there with my boyfriend.  

I don't even remember 

how we wound up together, 

I think I might have asked him out 

in my awkward way.  


He was the guy everybody wanted back in grade 8.  

Popular, funny, cute.  

I was the envy of every girl in the school.  

It was the first time in my life 

I had been said yes to.  


Our group of friends used to go to the field 

every lunch hour 

when the grass was still green and fresh.  

We'd lie on our backs cuddled up into each other 

and watch the clouds drift by.  

Beyond us, the soccer boys 

would kick a ball around.  

We would pull out our music players 

and listen to "What is Love" by Haddaway 

on repeat forever.  

It was the epitome of innocent bliss, 

those lingering months before high-school 

and the process of growing up truly began.  

We were the kings of of the world; we were allowed to be kids.  

The laziness of summer 

had just begun to set in.  


I remember it was after school 

we wandered into town.  

We passed by the play ground 

and the children squealing with delight 

upon the swings, 

demanding to go higher, higher.  

We walked down the wooden dock to the water's edge 

and lay there, I with my head on his chest.  

I can't remember 

what we talked about, 

but at one point I rolled over 

so we both were facing each other.  

I remember how blue his eyes looked

 reflected in the glow 

of the slowly sinking sun.  

Bluer then the sky.  


And then, he kissed me, 

and I remember feeling 

so shocked 

so surprised 

so starry eyed.  

I was no longer a little girl anymore.  

I was the girl with the boyfriend.  

I was the girl who was loved.  

But even more so, I was astonished by how simple 

that little kiss really was, 

a little gesture of love,

something that had seemed like the greatest on earth.  


A month later, 

our romance crashed and burned 

and I was heart broken, 

then learned to move on.  

But the memory of us on the dock 

still lingers fondly in my heart.


Whenever I go back home, 

I walk down by the sea, 

down to the place upon the wooden slates 

upon which he kissed me, 

and my heart feels full.  


If the greatest thing in life is to love 

and be loved in return, 

then I have experienced life to it's fullest 

many times over.  

It doesn't matter if it didn't last.  

Perhaps, that's where the beauty lies, 

in the drifting of clouds and setting of suns,

in the wilting of roses and expelled sighs.

That no matter what happens,

I know, someday,

we will have the most beautiful

love story.

The End

2 comments about this poem Feed