Ronald Moran
ON A SUMMER NIGHT, 1957
It is never the same, is it? The moment when
you fall
in love, the instant when you know nothing else
matters,
only how you feel about her, whether or not
she
reciprocates. Perhaps she will, if not now, then
maybe
in the fixed future, and if she does you will have
the moment
stored in your memory box, though you will
notice
others, perhaps––even think they are interested
in you;
but that first moment will never disappear while
locked
in your mind. I remember my first date with Jane
in 1957:
it was on a summer night when her brother, Dick
(my best friend),
and Roger, another friend of ours, and I were just
hanging
around the rec room of Dick and Jane’s house––
Jane and I
knowing each other for nine years but never dating––
but that day
her cousin and a friend were spending an overnight
with Jane,
so, with all of us in the rec room, all six unconnected,
Dick said,
Let’s hit the road, go somewhere fun. We did,
to The Cabin,
a teenage roadhouse in Cromwell, Connecticut.
That night,
I asked Jane to dance with me to the song Tammy,
during which
I fell in love with her, that quickly. And I never
stopped,
even though we had to conquer some obstacles,
and we did,
lived as man and wife for 50 years, until death
did us part.
Wild Goose Poetry Review 
I have to comment on this for more than just liking the poem so much, but because it speaks to me personally — only in my case, it was 1951, and 57 years till death did us part — mostly in Sherman, CT. The parting came, however, in NC. I wish more poets would allow themselves to be “accessible!” Thank you.
I appreciate very much your comment.
Who was it that said narrative was done? And what did he know anyway?
Well done, Ron! Heart-stabbing, but beautiful in its truth. Thank you for sharing.