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First Loss. (M.P.Bridger)Sitting on that bed of softest grass Surveying the escarpment below, We did not speak aloud, our chance had gone, Killed by the confusion in her mind. She did not want to hurt me, Letting me down gently her aim. Though as we set out that morning Walking those hills with silent misery Punctuated with lame joking remarks, I already knew she wanted out. Out of my arms, my heart and my life. As we sat exchanging silent apologies On the summer breeze, My mind tuned in with the birdsong And inwardly I thanked the whispering caress Of the wind gently threading through the long grass. It seemed to soothe my pounding head, Cool my burning blushes and mask my disappointment But could not help my aching heart. That was something new, It had never been broken before. In my mind I asked a passing cloud If it knew how I could mend it, For my youth, innocence and misplaced trust ensured That I did not have a clue. I cast a sideways glance at her face, Her beauty shone downwards at the ground Wearing a mask of frowning sorrow. The walk back took forever, Each footfall encumbered by the heavy silence. We parted that day as friends Though those bewildering feelings of youth Were abandoned on that hill for eternity, To be scattered on the knowing breeze. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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