The first day of spring, perhaps was the day, When my yokel heart went waylay. I turned into a man sense sans, When i saw her lost, in her sprightly dance. Her carefree steps filled with resplendence, There was beauty all around the vale, But nothing save her worth remembrance. A celestial corona in her eyes, And euphoric her flexes. Every tree seemed to dance along her, As if nature shared with her an eternal nexus. There was fragrance of the blossoming flowers in the air, But still, stood out her patchouli. In every step of hers was her beauty's afflatus, That could even bemuse a piece of rock, surely! Then suddenly, to my utter surprise, She started vanishing along a will-o-the wisp's ray. It was then i realized, She must have been a perception's play. Deep inside the oubliette of my heart, I still carry an effigy of that seraph's image. A phantom of virginal beauty, That still, sets my heart ablaze. **I wrote that at the age of 16. My first poem that deals with love.**