The Awakening

The Awakening

By Peter Woodgate

He had known the heat of summer

playing in the streets of home,

games, where just imagination,

was the cost, all else there, none.

He was happy, as were all,

those children that were unaware,

as they found fun in frolicking

in empty houses, without care.

And as the gentle years rolled by

he became aware, of girls

for they were not just silly things

with smiling eyes and pretty curls.

Despite his love of football,

cricket, table tennis too,

his troubled mind could not erase

those, he’d met and knew.

But being shy, he wasn’t bold,

respect he always had,

alas, this course of action failed,

no dates, and he was sad.

Seventeen and summer camp,

a week in Felixstowe,

an experience to change his life,

as yet, he did not know.

It was on the beach, one evening,

after their day of drill,

the young cadets who laughed and joked

were ready to leave, until,

some girls came walking on the sands,

arm in arm they strode,

fifteen young lads, just three of them

the scene it would explode.

Wolf whistles, banter, saucy chat,

all this filled the air,

he stood there, silent, shared the view,

for they were slim and fair.

Suddenly, one of the three,

detached herself and pranced

over to the shy young lad

persuading him to dance.

Compulsively she pressed her lips

upon his, he responded,

it seemed like an eternity,

in truth, they briefly bonded.

She broke away, joined her friends,

then turning, gave a grin,

the moisture from her sensual lips

remained that week with him.

And from that moment, things around,

acquired a special glow

and beauty shaped, all he perceived,

just why he did not know.

The girl, he never saw again

but retained her memory,

a sumptuous taste of summer,

it would always be.

Copyright Peter Woodgate