You were not my great love

of teenage years, she

was unobtainable,

not the girl I could have kissed

till years had passed and our mutual

sorrow and despair drove us together

for one sweet night

of dope fuelled devotion;

you were not my great love

but you were my first real date,

a Banbury day, a film

and a burger,

I loved you deeply for that day

and the beauty you seared,

hot glowing metal

billowing against my lungs,

I love you for the memory

and the carved name

in stained pitted wood

on a desk inside Bicester School.

Ian D. Hall 2016