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Poem - A caged memory

A caged memory

I was eighteen
And she
Maybe a year younger
I don’t remember exactly
But she was thin
Short, cropped blonde
With no tits
But the rest of her was gold
She was a tomboy
Which I like
Yet without a name
For this recounting
Though I still feel her body against mine
Underneath the water
In the river
The summer of our lives
Or some such cliché
But she was real and sexy
And slightly bowed
To my confidence
Which I no doubt faked
Which was what allowed
My hand to roam down her flat stomach
Into her bikini
Without a fraction of protest
As I hugged her from behind
Her ass in my groin
Her body tight
In my arms
And we kept each other warm
In the cool flowing water
Despite the sun
And the other teenagers
That played and swam and laughed
And I’m thankful for rivers
In particular their color
As no one could see
What was going on
And I was probably in some kind of heaven
Because I can remember that one moment
All these years later
With considerable clarity.
I can still feel her
Though don't recall her name
Or what happened to her
As I’m assuming she moved away
Soon afterwards.

And maybe you’ve got one of those memories too
The one that got away
But not conquered
Lost along the way
To time
And the cellar of recollection
That is yours
And not theirs
And maybe you don’t want to know what happened to them
As that’s not the point
As they would be older too
And real
And less appealing.

We’re more than happy to be standing here
Looking back
When all things were better
As it’s our memory
And no one else’s
And that’s the best of us
And the best of them.

To this day, she will never know
That she’s never been better.

A true story

Rose colored

(Update: This post was published in 2012. The poem was then printed in my first Poetry Collection, Caged Without Walls (2013).

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  1. The inspiration for the girl in your novella. I like the last two lines - the image of her is yours not hers. She might not even remember the situation.

  2. Steamy summer memories! I'm sure many of us have some of these. I know I do... One is much the same as yours, except it lasted only a single glorious day.
    Really good poem Anthony!

  3. Thanks for dropping by guys. Graham its a different girl but same locale. Yes youre right - she may not remember me at all.

  4. Love it and brings back memories


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