Saturday, August 27, 2011
First Love
You were right when you said she was special,
Nobody can fill that gap.
A call or a message can mean so much,
It just feels like a rap.
A rap to the mind who thought she was the one,
A rap to the heart that went aflutter,
Promises- promises are easy to make
But just like butter.
The milk must be churned till promises
Can belie a heart that was once spurned,
Alas my dear! Those promises
Can't be kept, I may have yearned
But will give it up
All for you- my first love.
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