First Love

Nostalgia held my hand and walked with me
in search of love, the first time it was mine.
Our path meandered through my memory;
we stopped at each and every tell-tale sign:
at every friend I thought that I would keep,
at every hand my fingers would entwine.
I replayed all my kisses, quick or deep.
I re-read all my poems, every line;
but all the signs of love revealed the truth
that what I thought was love was just a shade,
and “first love” which I thought I’d find in youth
was not in any memory I’d made.
Nostalgia left and now I see it’s true;
my first true love is here and now, with you.

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