Scrapbook

 I remember the tender innocence of the first kiss,
 the nervous excitement of the first love,
 the pain when it ended and the shame when we met again.
 I remember the simple smiles and the shy grins,
 the darting eyes to avoid a glance,
 and the laughter to disguise our fear.
 I remember the silly, wide-eyed joys,
 the mischievous conspiracies of friends and foes,
 and the desperate need to know who we were.

 I remember the doctors, the ministers, the teachers, and the lawyers   
 pleading with us to lead more cautious lives,
 and I remember their final, crushing betrayals
 after we had fallen as far as they could tempt us.
 I remember our mortal disgrace, our utter mournful disgust,
 when we finally confronted their filthy lies
 and we defied anyone to lead us again.
 It was the final chapter in our sad books
 when we realized that we were really on our own.

 I kept the scrapbook.  
 The memories are still clear.