we were sitting in the garden
daring to face
the real difficulties,
and me trying in every stupid
roundabout way to get her
to say that she should be
one with me.

stammering and blushing,
and being as silly
as any one could be
she turned upon me
with a sweet sad smile,
and fishing for pity for myself,
she said, "Sorry!"

words were few and simple
manner of utterance was ineffable,
and for her youth, her resolve
was ancient, strong, steeled
and i must consider myself
a prisoner on parole
hearing the clanging doors
of her heart slam shut
emitting not one photon
on which i could place
the slightest wisp
of a dream i have,
of riding into the future.

but at fourteen
i could not see
clearly.

11/11/2005