My First Love is Dead

I loved her; thought she was perfect.
She behaved as if she was.

I was the first to express love for her.
She accepted my love with compassion.

She never loved me. Liking was all she offered.
That was enough. I felt someone as wonderful
as her was far above me, an angel on earth.

She treated me with compassion and tolerance,
Never showed irritation or annoyance with my suit.

She knew I couldn’t see her as she was;
Only the vision I had created in my mind.

Yet she was kind, forgiving, sincere
And behaved as the friend she stayed.

I grew out of the passion for an ideal.
She met and married someone else,
Who loved the real woman she was.

For a while I was jealous but later happy
That she had someone right for her.

She had children as kind as she,
And grandchildren who loved her.

But now she has gone:
I’m not the only one to grieve.

Those who knew her valued her
for her friendship, her compassion, her love.

She had enough for all, even me.
She remembered me as the first to worship
Even though she knew I could not see
Her as she was, only what I thought her to be.

Yet she treated me as a person who loved her.
That was enough for me to see
she was worth my love,
even if she was never in love with me.

She has gone but my heart still sings
Remembering her for what she means to me.