I startled to attention at eleven years old.
Apollo 11 reached the moon the year a Jewish beauty
landed in my heart.
Beams of pure white light shot
from her head and her heart.
Hungry young minds were lit on fire.
With her guidance, I learned
how to be kinder that year
and my love for reading and words
blossomed in her care.
She made me feel that all my artworks were Picasso’s
and that I was a precious, loved being.
I knew from the moment I met her
I’d need her forever.
First loves are born from such cataclysmic awakenings.
Fourteen thousand moons would rise and fall between us
before I’d find a part of me she had taken with her.
I’d kept the memory of her in the deepest part of my heart
and I loved her without measure.