We were only sixteen, like the song,
Only sixteen, (and too young to know).
Your laughing Irish eyes asked for surrender.
and I did, wholly, completely.
Days of summer grasses, lying in the sun,
a blade of green between your lips.
Driving down back country roads
You ran a Stop sign on the corner of S. River Rd
in a black and white, 57 Chevy,
me, straddling your stick shift
while you had other things on your mind.
A time of thigh-high skirts and knee high boots.

You still haunt my dreams, always sixteen.
I often search for you,
Look for you, so close,
Yet always out of reach.

Country roads became city streets.
Pretty boys became handsome men,
Lovers and friends,
some sweet and kind, some that brought me to tears.
with pleasure or with pain.
Now gone as well.

Walked away, or pulled away, or torn away.
Cut, I bled,
Scarred I healed
willing to start all over again.
Always ready to reach out, over and over.
Am I healed?

Quietly, the years moved on,
Too many to unwind.
Then, almost by accident, he came along,
that best friend who became a lover.
The friend I shared decades with, more laughter than tears.
Safe, you were my safe place.
Even after all the years, still gone too soon.

Time began to accelerate, alone took on a different meaning.
No new loves, no new feelings of anticipation,
No new men.
Could I still find that feeling, when Irish eyes locked into mine,
or dancing to a new beat with a brown-eyed man,
The safe feeling of weather-beaten hands that held mine, for so long,
Not long enough.
One look at the old face that greets me every morning, I know,
I have my answer.

Hildegard (Dee) Lambert was born in Vienna, Austria, coming to the US in 1955. Currently living in the Driftless Area since 1979. Has been writing since her teen years. Published in a number of Anthologies, Voices of the River Valley, 2025 WFOP calendar. Working on a novel.