And Where Is She Now Poem by David Harris
And Where Is She Now
How often do you wonder
what happened to your first love.
Sometimes I do it all the time.
I wonder what she is doing,
what kind of life she’s lead,
has she had any children and how many.
Did she ever marry the man of her dream,
or is she still waiting
for him to come along?
The questions are without answers,
as I really don’t know.
My first love was Gillian Reid.
I met her at a dance hall
where she worked.
I caught a glimpse of her
the first night I went there
from the corner of my eye.
It was enough for me
to fall madly in love with her.
I slowly got to know as time passed by.
We never went out together though I did try.
However, I had fallen madly in love with her.
Sadly, that love was never returned.
She did however become
a source of inspiration
for many years to come.
I wrote songs by the score,
even my first novel
was written for her.
As the years passed,
she still did inspire me
with short stories and a radio play
and of course
a poem or two.
The last I heard about her
was way back in the late sixties
when someone had told me
she went all hippie.
Still I never saw her again
and I often wonder
would I recognise her
if by chance we passed on the street.
One thing I do remember well.
I wrote her a letter,
the longest letter that I’ve ever written.
It took five envelops to sent it,
so I must have been smitten.
And where is she now
your guess is as good as mine.
All I can tell you is this,
somewhere in this heart of mine
a small fire for her still burns
for the first love of mine.
Time has never dampened
all the embers in there.
However, my wife
has nothing to worry about.
The past is the past
and that is just where it is staying.
What a great topic for a story. And I wonder if you did find her... what would she be like now. I recall my Jerry telling of his first love who 'taught him the ways'. It was on board ship and he was nineteen. She was several years older and he chanced to encounter her again after some twenty years. What a disappointment. This spunky little rager had turned into a middle aged frump with a pair of kids and a mortgage. He couldn't get out of the house quickly enough... Better methinks to leave her where she belongs - in your poem. love, Allie xxxx
I agree, the past has its own house, untouchable though still influencing our every step Wonderful David, and a big Thankyou for the Above Love duncan X
I was just talking to my daughter the other day about my first 'crush'...wondering those same questions....Like Suzan says....in a way it is a hard lesson....but it forms who we are and where and how we will go in our hearts from there...nice write David
The first love you think you find in others is really coming from yourself. It's the knowing of how it feels that sets your path. And it's a wonderful feeling to carry through the rest of your life. I have enjoyed reading your view on love. Great verse. Best wishes Suzan Gumush. P.S. Merry Christmas!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 11:41:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The past is a different country, they do things differently there.... this is a lovely approach D, not overly sentimental, just inquisitive and expressive. I'm happy to say my first 'love' is as far away from me as possible and busy ruining someone else's life..... t x