Young Love

Each time they met in the narrow hall
she flushed fuchsia from neck to forehead.
He lingered in her presence, tried to stall
her with repartee, while feet felt like lead.

She was single, nursing a broken heart.
He was married, a fact he did not deny.
With an air of candor, they sipped drinks after dark,
hypnotic sparks ignited their eyes.

This spellbinding love set them both at sea,
they could not bear to be separated.
Making love, they were who they wanted to be,
young bodies ceaselessly titillated.

They talked, they panned when to take the next step
‘til reality dawned–too tough a concept.


Written for: motif/love
Pick an age to speak from in 14 lines.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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4 Responses to Young Love

  1. johncoyote says:

    “This spellbinding love set them both at sea,
    they could not bear to be separated.”
    A beautiful story in the poem. I like the above lines. Love is hard to stop. Even if the love can’t be. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.


  2. Susan says:

    Aieee! Such a realistic saga, and in a sonnet no less! (I think you meant “planned” in that last line?) Nicely done. Grin. Today I posted the midweek motif ~ heart. I hope you’ll write another new poem for us.


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