In the hollow by the course
She, with me and Joff
late one Saturday evening,
The day had been a success
I had won again and the prize
Was in the bag, beside my togs.
The laurel wreath, around my neck,
Was twisted, not in greens
But soft pink of woman's arms
and the scents of skin in love.
On the field and track,
Another conquest lay before,
Better than the crowd.
The August moon in cooling beams
smiled his same old grin.....
we used his light
as he had used the sun
and, cheating watched
the other cheat,
between long dark lashes
and scared of love.
John Rickell's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (First Love by John Rickell )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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