My First Love

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Adversity can bring about unexpected discovers as you tap into forgotten resources to overcome the challenge. Covid-19 has done that for me. It revived the sleeping poet, slumbering deep in my soul. The virus enabled me to find my first love.

My First Love

Poetry, you were my first love,

Long before I entered the maze of grammar and punctuation

You were like building blocks scrolled with my childish hand,

A written prayer, a private benediction

My first love became

A toy made of letters and words at my command,

With no beginning or end or predesigned direction

I could play with you however I wanted,

And it was not required for anyone but me to understand

Your hidden meaning.

Sadly, I moved on to other loves.

The short story and novel take up most of my time.

But over the years, I’ve discovered I will never escape you.

Sometimes without planning it, my words still rhythm.

Who is Molly Shea?

Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh.  To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.

Be sure to follow Molly on Twitter!

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The Weatherman’s News

I suspect mine will rhythm because that is how I roll. One of the poems I plan to share during this month of free verse is The Weatherman’s News.

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A Persistent Pest

I suspect mine will rhythm because that is how I roll. One of the poems I plan to share during this month of free verse is A Persistent Pest.

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Trying to Age Gracefully

I suspect mine will rhythm because that is how I roll. One of the poems I plan to share during this month of free verse is Trying to Age Gracefully.

Published by henhouselady

I am the author of Saving the Hen House. I didn't know when I started it would turn into a series. I love to ride motorcycles, the blues, my family, and going on adventures. This old hen rocks.

2 thoughts on “My First Love

  1. This is a lovely poem, Molly. Poetry is my first love too and I have always dabbled with it. Interestingly enough, my poetry muse vanished in March when the world went into lockdown and I despaired of her returning. I have written three poems since I wrote my muse post a short while ago. It is amazing what triggers the imagination and word flow.

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