I was a young awkward traveller sojourning the winding trails
Of that milestone place called youth, strange and wierd
When the scarlet blush of the aureate dawn was
Suddenly more sublime, almost fragrant and honey sweet
On the hesitant and amateurish palate of appreciation
When the stroking fingers of the breeze were
Like the tender touch of nascent blooming attraction
When gazing at the distant stars in solitude
Became better than collecting fireflies in glass bottles
When butterflies fluttered  deep in the abdomen
Though I no longer chased them in the floral meads
At the threshold of the boudoir of juvenile dreams
I was wounded by the arrows of Cupid
Someone left me tongue-tied, me who chirped endlessly
I yearned for the sight of a special someone
And for that someone to glance at me with love
Talking with him was elixir, yet I hesitated
His smile lit up my whole day, even when clouds wept raindrops
His voice was like music which I craved to hear
His companionship was my aspiration, his love my destiny
His face fleeted into my dreams, my silent thoughts
He was my silent first love, that of an awkward adolescent
That never blossomed on the fertile soil of reality
Yet remains a bitter sweet memory that still strings
A parody of smiles and tears on my face in solivagance
Like the taste of dark chocolate and coffee on the tongue…