I’m currently on a road trip heading south. It’s a road trip that I took some 23 years ago with my first lover.
It’s brought back many memories. Much nostalgia.
You may—or may not—know that I’m an aspiring poet. Later this year, I start a postgraduate degree in Creative Writing with my major in poetry.
I used to write lots of poetry all throughout my childhood, teens, and early twenties. But somewhere along the way, I forgot about my love of poetry.
I stopped writing it.
I started writing it again during my health crisis in 2018.
Here’s one of the poems I’ve written during my road trip.
Summer Gift
When you look down
the barrel of the lens of your life,
past and future,
and know it was your only summer romance,
you hold tight.
I’ve dreamt of you so often.
You appear in my
dreams as you were back then;
golden boy, in
skin and heart.
Arms that wrapped me,
skin that moistened me,
a body that salvaged me,
daisy chains you made for me.
I see you in blue and white—
always only in blue and white.
Riding the waves;
blue water, white crescents.
Laying and watching;
blue sky, white clouds.
Walking towards me;
bluebells, white ribbons.
Water gliding off dark skin,
the whites of your eyes
always wide to see me.
Home from work to
find love notes
beckoning me to the beach,
your lasting trail
of uneven footprints
marking the sand.
Merman.
Was it even real?
No, it wasn’t a dream.
There was a beach.
There was a boy.
There was love.
It was sweet and golden and real.
It was summer love,
and you were my summer gift.
with love,
Belinda
