Yours From The First Poem by Jonathan GriffithsPugh

Newborn lovers swaddled in gossamer expectations
In a whitewashed tower room above the rivers rush
Words of hope exchanged in whispered incantations
Tangled sheets and bodies subside to a sacred hush

Two novices hand to hand in prayerful supplication
Fearful to receive nothing or all that they requested
Fragile vows pilot a tremulous flight of imagination
Undertakings of constancy made but as yet untested

Swathed by the mists that rise on a Cam-side dawn
Passion turns to adoration as a couple dread to part
Willing hearts rush in where experience would warn
Anxiety and optimism; were every story has its start