Wednesday, May 24, 2017

It was so long ago




It was so long ago
Summertime in England
We were now going out
Walking up the steep hill
Through a field of golden butttercups

Just why did I like you
We lay there untroubled
Warmth of sun on faces
Looking over the town
With me hoping I could kiss your lips

"Rob, do you like butter?"
Picking just one flower
Holding it by my chin
It was then I kissed her
And touched her with my fingertips

Shame such love does not last
As old time ticks away
This old man longs for her
Walking up that steep hill
Through a field of golden buttercups

Image found at www.pixabay.com

12 comments:

  1. Wonderful memory. Real butter doesn't last all that long either . . .

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  2. It sounds like a magical moment in a field of buttercups. Memories are the heart of a poet.

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  3. Such a magical moment captured so flawlessly.. sigh..

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  4. Of course you like butter - an evocative poem once again your heart shines through.. now did you make daisy chains too

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  5. Such a sweet memory recorded by your lovely poetry.

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  6. The beauty of young love is a treasure, even if lasting for a while.

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  7. Beautiful description of young love ... a wonderful memory.

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  8. So beautiful a memory. I remember a hillside abloom in yellow daisies every spring.

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  9. Glorious memories sustained. It could have been sealed earlier. A process in the growing up years could not be erased!

    Hank

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  10. A sunny memory of a perfect day, Robin. Your poem a fitting tribute to that day.

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