The first...

I wrote this about the fall of 1995, 8th grade. Homecoming night to be exact. Kind of a funny story about my first kiss. I read it now and I think, "Jamie, you were pathetic." But at the time, I meant every word...

The First
Long ago when I was young, and my heart knew nothing wrong
I dreamed of a day when my prince would come riding along.
We'd laugh and we'd joke around, we'd smile and we'd talk.
Then after sometime, we'd go for a star guided walk.
It would be then we'd talk some more, and he would hold me tight.
And then so soft, we'd kiss in the glow of the moonlight.
My friends and I back then, dreamed about that night.
But thinking back now, on my first kiss, I see a different sight.
We were together but in a crowd, on Homecoming night.
I'd though for awhile I'd get my first kiss, but things didn't go quite right.
He'd been dared to kiss me, so he did, there for all to see.
I'd been told of fireworks on a first kiss, but they didn't come to me.
I wondered where my walk was, my moonlight in the sky.
My dream had not come true, I asked myself why.
Why hadn't I felt that feeling, that great feeling deep inside?
Instead, why was I so sad, like my dreams had died?
I got my answer later, when all my friends were gathered near.
I was holding his hand, and smiling, at what he whispered in my ear.
These days a kiss means nothing of love, when it happens it means you scored.
They can sometimes means something, but can be given because you're bored.
I did feel my feeling, in a way, my fireworks came true.
But it wasn't because of a meaningless kiss, but cause he whispered I love you.