Two Poems Commemorating Our First Date Forty-six Years Ago

FIRST DATE

Pouring down rain drenching the night

as I climb the steps to your  home.

With one knock, light from within

greets me,

and there you stand,

the scent of herbal essence from your hair,

your brown eyes looking deep into my soul.

You bid farewell to your Aunt and Uncle,

open the screen door

and step outdoors.

The drenching rain suddenly

frozen in time

as your hand touches mine

and you laugh,

aware of the secret

I have hidden deep within.

© 2011. The Book Of Ruth,  by Deacon Bob Wagner OFS. All rights reserved.

ON THE 46^TH ANNIVERSARY OF OUR FIRST DATE

Forty-six years have past

since first I climbed the steps

of your Aunt and Uncle’s

back porch on Marion Street.

With the sounds of Rice Street,

the rain pelting down in large

drops on the roof of the porch,

I stood and boldly knocked

at the door, my heart beating

loudly, my senses so alive,

so acute, it was as if I could

feel the vibrations of each

rain drop hitting the cement

pavement of the sidewalk

running alongside the house.

You opened the door,

your body silhouetted, backlit

from the light of your Aunt’s

kitchen, the scent of the

Herbal Essence from your

hair filling the air around

you. I breathed it in deeply

not just once, but two, three

deep intoxicating breaths, my

sense of smell drinking in

deeply this invisible aura

around you. The first of

many nights we would have

together on this porch,

each as exciting as this

first, each occasion as

memorable as this one.

Though the young legs

of the seventeen year old

who once bounded up

those steps have weakened,

my senses remain as alive,

my anticipation remains.

as great, my heart beating

in excitement as I behold

you, as beautiful, radiant

and as mysterious as ever.

Your wondrous brown eyes

still gaze into my soul,

seeing and revealing all

my hidden feelings and

desires. Your laugh, the

music of my soul, which

lightens even the densest

of gloom from any room,

your smile, instilling joy

in all who gaze upon you

have not changed, no,

rather, you continue to

evolve into something

far more wondrous

than that rainy May 29^th

night in 1969, embellishing

and enhancing the world.

One change only, so

very insignificant, the

Oil of Olay body wash

with which you bathed,

its scent rising from the

surface of your beautiful

skin, deliciously bathes

the air, a halo of scented

delight that whirls and

swirls around you.

Your hands in mine, you

lean in, your lips touch

mine in a kiss, the tip of

your tongue gently, briefly

parts my lips, a reminder

that the night has more

delights in store of us,

the future as exciting

and as intoxicating as

it was for us, that night

forty-six years ago.

© 2915, The Book Of Ruth, by Deacon Bob Wagner OFS. All rights reserved.