Poetry Sunday

As I look back on the broad sweep of my life, I recognize a lot of things that might have been. I never had a girlfriend like this one, but who knows what might have happened if I had?

Born Too Late

by Alan Harawitz

You could never be my girlfriend.

I was only fourteen

and you were a young woman,

seventeen years old.

But we were friends, maybe even more.

You would sing "Born Too Late"

over and over again as if it were a refrain

and not just the title of a hit song by The Ponytails.

I think you were flirting with me.

You even taught me how to kiss

so I would be ready when

I met someone who was right for me.

We would practice, lips only

and then French kiss:

"That's when you use your tongue," you said.

That was how we spent the summer 

at the beach in Far Rockaway.

I was too young to have a real girlfriend

and for some reason you never met anyone.

You told me how mature I was for my age

and then there was always "Born Too Late"

and you would laugh and say:

"Would you like to try that again?"

Maybe I would, if I'd had the chance.

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo