First Love
To whom can i describe her when smiling?
With northern eyes of ice blue that glisten,
Her hair aflame against the wind beguiling
Incantation from an angel, who listen,
Endowed with contours of feminine styling
In ancient times Venus she would be christen.
Oh the love of my youth i will cherish
Memories i keep will never perish.
© Harry J Horsman 2011
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