My church girl

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We were teenagers, and we did teenager things. The night before we planned to meet in secret at St. Mary’s Park. The weather was warm, and I remember how she wore the pretty spring dresses that the “church girls” often wore back then. She was so very beautiful, her long flowing black hair, her innocent demeanor. Yes, we were so young, innocent, and the romance between us was pure and true. The malice of thought that exists today, didn’t exist for us back then. Things were different, we were young, innocent,  and truly in love.

I had this small portable radio, you know, before Ipods and all the fancy toys we have today. I played an oldies cassette in it. I have always been an old soul, a helpless romantic at heart. So there we were at the park, embracing each other, swaying slowly to the music. I held her tight and close, while the gentle breeze caressed our skin, and I gazed into her beautiful dark eyes. She softly smiled me and my heart melted. I kissed her gently but passionately. I was lost in the moment with her. This was perfect, we were in heaven.

Then like fingernails on a chalkboard I hear that guy screaming at us from across the street, “get a room you two lovebirds!” Damn, this isn’t heaven, we are in St. Mary’s Park in the South Bronx.



Note the date on a post as it may be an old point of view. If you learn that your views are wrong, yet they remain the same, then you are a fool.

The opinions and views expressed are solely those of the author.

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