Peter Witt

Peter Witt is a Texas poet, with poems appearing in online and print publications.  He is a former university professor who now devotes his time to researching and writing family history and poetry.  He is also an avid birder.

We Were Only Seven

I trusted you, with every breath
I took from early morning to late night
and every hour in between. You were
my first love, the one who took
a dare from your girlfriends,
kissed me on the cheek, then shyly
stood back giggling with your friends
while the boys on the playground
cheered, slapped me on the back,
and pushed me forward to hold your hand.

School year ended way too soon,
you went away with your family
on a cruise along the Atlantic coast,
I spent my days going to day camp,
playing fetch with my dog, sometimes
fishing with my Dad after he got home
from work...all the time thinking about
seeing you in the fall, with your reddish
hair, beautiful smile, and shy brown eyes.

When school started again In September
I was nervous about seeing you,
would you remember the kiss,
our holding hands, our shy smiles.

But alas, first day I saw you talking
with another classmate on the playground,
then holding her hand, kissing her
on the cheek, looking at her
with your shy smile. I felt betrayed.

Over the next few years, you
were friendly, but always with her,
despite the ridicule heaped on you
by the other kids...from me
there was no angst, just a deep
sadness that our time together
only lasted a few weeks in the spring
of 1950, when bees buzzed
around the newborn flowers.

Me and My Granddaughter

I don't have a granddaughter,
but if I did she'd know
the call of a mockingbird,
difference between a male
and female cardinal,
the color of bluebird eggs.

She'd have rough knees
from kneeling in the carefully
tended dirt in my vegetable
garden and would know
when it was warm enough
to plant tomatoes, cold
enough for potatoes.

And she'd know how to gather
an apron full of greens,
how to wash them clean,
then cook them in oil,
with a little bit of salt and pepper,
until tender, but not overdone...

all these things she'd know,
along with hugs, smiles,
and stories read to her about
fairies and other forest creatures.

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