It's funny how one (re)discovers oneself through one's progeny...
When Bitti came last time, she reminded me of the promise I had made to her - that, when she is 21+, she will have access to our old diaries...
...and that is how she discovered this poem - my first (I rediscovered it)...
I was 15-and-half year old (dated 23rd Jan, 1971) when I wrote this (and was totally unaware of the prophesy of these verses to become a reality more than a quarter of a century in my life)...
At that time, I thought that this was better than William Wordsworth 1st poem:)
I measured it from side to side,
'Twas three feet long and two feet wide
In any case, this is what I had written more than 37-years back:
The Lips that were a cup of wine,
the eyes that bore a twinkle shine,
the curls that I can ever adore,
were not that day, as they're before.
The lips had peace, a calm smile.
Her face looked as a drawn profile.
The eyes that bore a twinkle gleam,
had lost it for an endless dream.
The curls that gave a joyous thrill,
were lying on the bed, sad and still.
I sat in tears besides her bed,
and sadly wept with bent down head.
In fading light the beauty slept.
With humble steps, the darkness crept....