A Fickle Love of Stars and Old Guitars

First love is ever so sweet!

Twas but a fickle love

Of stars

And old guitars

 

Ah, I remember it well:

He was like a winding stairway,

Hidden passions at every turn,

So many secrets I craved to learn.

 

I was an open book, a front page article,

Something I always mistook

For honesty and,

Naïve as I was,

I never stopped to look at his files.

 

That moment, that awakening-

What a journey!

A fool’s idea of love; a fool’s idea of life.

 

The stars were bright in his eyes-

They were bright in mine too-

And the music, broken and haunting,

Should have been my warning of,

A fickle love of stars

And old guitars.