The First Day

I wish I could remember the first day,

First hour, first moments of your meeting me;

If bright or dim the season, it might be.

Summer or Winter for aught I can say,

So unrecorded did it slip away.

So blind was I to see and to foresee,

So dull to mark the budding of my tree,

That would no blossom for many a May.

If only I could recollect it! Such

A day of days! I let it come and go

As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.

It seemed to mean so little, meant so much!

If only now I could recall that touch,

First touch of hand in hand! - Did one but knows!


-William Roetzheim.The Giant Book Of Poetry. Level Four Press Inc, 2014





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