Dear Diary

by Tom Horonzy

Wistful moments of reflection
carries me to the moment
she sighed and said goodbye
bidding farewell to a friend
who wanted more of her than
her parents wanted him to have.

Innocence readily abounded
around and within her being,
where his was spent previously,
being a seafaring man ashore
in ports where liberty called.

Recollections of conquests
fulfilling primal calls performed
as had been done for centuries.
Yet, here was a woman endowed
with inviolable hollow character.
A preacher's daughter of esteem,
taught revered things as chastity,
which they felt was threatened
like lil pigs in a house of sticks.

In retrospect, it was likely true
but hearing her say, "it's over,"
my being head over heels in love
was devastating to apprehend
as tears joined with falling rain
making it even more difficult
with the last kiss of many shared,
ended what I hoped could've been.

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Recognized

I was twenty-seven. She was seventeen. I had begun college after ten years in the Navy.
She took me home to meet her family. Her dad was a Methodist minister. He added
2 + 2 and didn't like the answer. She ended our togetherness sitting above a waterfall in the Blue Ridge mountains on a mist-filled afternoon.

The picture is my own, but the girl is NOT the girl of old.

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A true story that occurred fifty years ago

Dear Diary

by Tom Horonzy

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