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First Love

By Christopher Iacono


Don’t worry about the park,

it’s still listening to you

talk about your love

standing in your dreams,

clutching a bouquet of roses.


The park watches your

glances, smiles,

pencil sketches.

It feels your steps

across its green carpets,

the scent of cut grass

tickling your mind,

chills covering your skin.


Your fingers comb hair,

run down a cheek,

hold the chin and lift it,

eyes in eyes, lips on lips…


You reach for the bouquet

but grab thorns, your palms sting.

Open your eyes, your love is gone.


But the park stays with you,

it will always be here;

it only asks that you leave

when the night comforts it

with warm blankets.


Tomorrow morning,

when the sun’s rays come,

the roses of your first love

will bloom again.




Christopher Iacono lives with his wife and son in Massachusetts. He enjoys writing poetry and fiction. You can find him on Twitter at @ciacono1973

*Featured image courtesy of contributor Brian Michael Barbeito*

5 Replies to “First Love – by CHRISTOPHER IACONO”

  1. Beautiful, Chris! So happy you’ve shared this lovely poem; with its wistful imagery, it’s a great portrait of fleeting first love. Great job! 🙂


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  3. It’s perfect time to make some plans for the long run and it’s time to be happy.
    I’ve read this post and if I could I desire to counsel you
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