One often hears ‘bout teenage years
Of young pioneers on new frontiers
The pressure of peers and social fears
The awkward tears, yet still endears.
It’s your first crush and it makes you gush
Your insides mush and your heart beat rush.
Like a drunken lush, you feel flush.
Your speech is hushed and it makes you blush.
It sounds cliché but you hope and pray
Somehow, someway there will come a day
You won’t back away or go part way
And they will say, “Hey, you’re OK.”
It’s a timeless tale, on which we dwell
That’s never stale, of what befell.
A magic spell in spring pastel
We know so well, but doomed to fail.
Cuz it’s a long shot with no jackpot.
The end of the plot is not so hot
More often than not it turns to squat.
So all you got is a forget-me-not
Of he or she, whoever they may be.
Now it’s just history, this eau-de-vie,
Though it ends off key, you should agree
It’s a sweet memory, like it is for me.
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