I wrote a poem for a poetry class.
I was told it sounded like a love story.
I was told it didn’t work.
I was told it was too much of a romantic love poem;
that the love I was speaking of didn’t exist
between the people I spoke of.

I was told by a scholar and published poet,
a master of fine arts in literature
with a focus in poetry,
that I should re-examine my poem.

I was told to research the definition of love
as proposed by the Greeks thousands of years ago.
My version of love didn’t fit into their perspective.
Perhaps it was too broad for them.
Perhaps it was too narrow.

Either way,
if their perspective didn’t understand my love,
then they had never truly experienced love like I have.

I was told it was too much of a love poem.

It is.

Because that poem was about the first time I ever saw you.
The day you were born.


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