musings of an aquarian age counterculturist

Dear John (or Kathryn) as the case may be

young poetry

Photo credit: eleventhbeatnik

My beautiful friend,

I came across this bit of writing tonight.  Neatly folded into squares.  Written in crazy yellow ink with flower embellishments.  I cannot recall the identity of the Romeo my younger self was so enamored.  What I do remember is that it was not the object of my love, but the opinion of my closest friend that mattered and transcended the passage of time.  I wrote my heart out in silly verses and covertly passed along the words to you for approval.  Likely under the classroom wall divider in Mr. Taylor’s class.

You kept this piece of paper in your safekeeping for years; and then unearthed it and returned it to me unexpectedly in a moment that turned out to be a remarkable rite of passage.

Yup . All of this from two rebellious young women convinced we’d never see a day past 30.  Cosmic joke, yeah?  And yet, here we are, well past our anticipated expiry date.

A poet I am not.  But here’s what I wrote all those years ago.  On lined paper.  In friggin’ yellow.

Life without love
Is an existence without life.
I love you more
Than words can say.

Life without love
Is not really living.
What I feel for you
Words cannot express.

Life without love
Is a garden without flowers.
I feel so empty
When I cannot hold you near.

Life without love
Is like sorrow without tears.
You can’t have one
Without the other.

And I cannot live
Without you.


If that’s not enough nostalgia for ya, check out my spiral perm circa late ’80s.  Oy!  Now there’s some serious entertainment.

Big love to you.  xo

Author: eleventhbeatnik

aquarian age counterculturist

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