First Time.

When you first caught me
I was frightened to life
Like a schoolboy having a prize flight
In a jet fighter.

The fairground horses that stood around us
Neighed their quaint approval,
But the morning grass was wet and slippy
Where their hooves had trod.

"So this is being grown up", I whispered
Taken aback by how easy it was.
You choked back a laugh, watching the clouds
Scudding over the same old sun.

Later you gave me a cigarette.
The smoke tasted of camp fire kisses.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 
September 16th. 2012.