That wondrous first; experience all,
which grips us with its wild call.

To know that someone else is there,
if just a single night to care.

When passion meets with primal urge,
to share entwined, that hunger surge.

Such a night for Elm and Fair,
to lay together, souls as bare.

Perfume of love; the scent still hung,
with memories of music strung.

Though brief as most first-timers know,
the joy they felt was clear to show.

Elm turned his head to watch her there,
her flawless form; curled auburn hair.

His love for her could overpour,
were they still friends or something more?

To dare speak first those dreaded words,
as met sweet eyes, those emeralds, hers.

If said, would she still feel the same?
he shuddered at the burning flame.

A daring risk to quell his fear,
else lose it all, and disappear.

Both trained in art of war and mind,
so unprepared for feelings; blind.

And so they lay in wonder each,
that longing question to beseech.

The answer plain; right there to see,
yet both resigned to leave it be.

For as held close their tight embrace,
believing they could set the pace.

A thought, though true, would soon regret,
and love, though new, would soon forget.

– J.S.Worth


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