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I have fond recollections of my high school years roaming the hallways with my best pals and their gals. We all thought that we embodied the right stuff or whatever that mindset was. We were all proud, cocky and cool and never wanted to be labeled pretenders without a purpose.

     We were all too young to grasp the concept that a beautiful soul could be more fulfilling than a curvaceous silhouette. During our senior year when we were kings, we boasted that life would be grand and our dreams would turn out exactly as planned.  We snarled at pesky problems and laughed at silly escapades while hoping our deepest secrets would never be betrayed.

     One April night, Pegasus descended and my life took a euphoric turn.  I lost my bravado and all sense of reason.  I cast my eager eyes on a scintillating soul wearing faded, tight jeans and a bohemian cotton gauze blouse.  Her hair was soft and flowing, framing skin smooth as butter.  Every step she took was gracefully fluent and as lite as freshly whipped cream. Her sparkling smile from her ruby red lips sent shivers down to my hips

     As I approached her, our eyes connected at once in a warm and welcoming way.  I began to shyly grin and nervously queried, “Hi, a nice night, isn’t it?”

     She quickly replied, “Yes it is. I’m on my way to the library, my name is Annie, what’s yours?” 

     I stammered for a moment and noticed a warm expression on her cheerful cheeks which quickly put me at ease.  “My name is John.”  In my hopeful heart she immediately captivated my attention and wondered if she would became my fair lady.

     Suddenly, Annie grasped my hand and my heart began to pound and quiver, hastening charmed feelings to explode in a kaleidoscope of bright colors. Brilliantly vivid and exquisite images electrified my entire essence, leaving me winded and weak from my head to my knees.

     Stumbling on happiness, we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. On my budget, our tray of burgers and fries was deemed gourmet cuisine. After sharing the last fry, I whispered softy, “wait until dark, we’ll go to the park.”

     We spread our blanket under the stars on our patch of parched grass.  Static sounds from a weak AM station emanated from my made-in-Japan transistor radio. My mind and body were in concert, both floating on airy emotions. All the president’s men could not relax that heavenly embrace of those twilight picnic partners.

     On a May, Sunday afternoon a distinctively clear sky, bright blue in hue enveloped our bedroom community.  In the town square couples often strolled past the courthouse.  The courthouse was framed by granite Doric columns and it was adorned with a large Seth Thomas clock.  It anchored the highest point of the town square.  It’s chimes reverberated hourly, emitting ringing signals heard by all inhabitants from Main Street to the hills on the west side of town..

     Obscured in the undergrowth of hedges and shrubs, this loving couple exchanged warm, gentle embraces. I picked some lilac from the courthouse garden and fastened it tenderly to Annie’s flossy, golden hair. On that day she may have been a flower child for a moment, but she soon became more than a woman for me.

     Some say that the world is a vast landscape, where rivers, valleys and mountains frame our horizons.  I preferred the sanctuary of empty meadows. Their pastoral refuge was a reprieve for me from the noise of parent’s shrill voices and bickering ways.  But as I reflect on those days, I cherished the experiences of bonding body and soul within the cradling confines of a tranquil locale, a nurturing place I called home.

     As we awaited summer’s sunburst debut, I thought of how our lives seemed fresh and new.  No matter the time of day, morning, noon or twilight’s eve we were sunny souls always in tune. Life’s uncertainties couldn’t dim our crazed fantasies.  It was in Riverview Park that we harmonized our emotions.

     Tenderly I vowed to Annie, “My heart is yours to hold.”  And Annie promised, “I will hold it forever.”

     On a wrought iron bench we cheerfully sat amidst the wildflowers and trumpet daffodils, joyously ruminating about tumbling sensations of pulsating sensual desires and idyllic illusions.

     On that sweltering night, under starlight’s winking eyes, Annie’s beguiling stares sent my intense, raging emotions into a spastic state of vertigo. From just one alluring glance my heart rode reeling rip tides to wild, infatuated extremes. I envisioned a euphoric affaire on a bed of powder-puff clouds.  Serenaded by whippoorwills, our spiraling emotions soared as a steamy, pregnant breeze billowed flushed, fiery breaths sweetened by feverish desires.  Across a luminescent horizon waves of moonbeams flickered like glistening tropical seas.

     Under a hazy veil of humid air, we bared our bodies and bared our souls and I needed to share my true feelings to Annie.  I held her close and said, “My deepest thoughts I cannot sing, only love and devotion is what I bring. Intimacy is all we crave and we should not have any foolish fears to mask.”

     Annie drew my head close to hers and expressed to me what she was feeling. “John, we’ve shared our hopeful dreams, each colored with romantic themes. Our true sentimental words never have to rhyme and our emotions will never die.”

     While walking home, we stopped on Tradition Bridge and engaged in a local ritual handed down by brothers, sisters and treasured friends.  Under a full moon, you’d kiss your date, make an impassioned wish while casting a lucky penny upon the rippling waters of the murky river below. Our blessed spirits connected, celebrating the grandeur of new-sprung love and lyrically singing hearts.

     All of the challenges, hurdles and heartaches that other couples faced never deterred us or curbed our lofty, idealistic imaginations.  We came of age, blending together as one. We cherished precious memories sparked in that peaceful haven, our place among the infinities.




I began my serious writing in August of 1998 after having been a victim of a freak accident in which I had a near-death experience. A second chance at life has been the source of inspiration for much of my writing. I have published five books of poetry, Serendipitous Mindscapes; Barefoot Ballet; Hued Horizons; Dream-Hunters; and Fate's Haven. In my free time I enjoy gardening, landscape design and participating in community service related activities.


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