So many "firsts" with you, my dear,
I've shamelessly failed to keep a count,
An ocean of moments and memories that
Are easily etched, but tough to account.
My first coffee date, my first monsoon drive,
My first dance with you, when I learned how to jive.
My first long phone bill, those never ending talks,
My first of our so many rambling walks.
My first love letter, my first red rose,
The first time I flirted with poetry and prose.
The song of the winds at the brink of twilight,
You were my first stolen kiss in that night.
But then, from that long list of firsts, stems a thread,
That stands out a little more strongly, I dread,
How can I forget the words that you spoke,
The first one to laugh off my dreams like a joke.
The first one to tell me my smile was too wide,
My teeth showed too much, and a mole I should hide
The first one to point at the red dress I chose,
And say, "That's just so not-your-type, I suppose."
The first one to claim that I was a work snob
Did you ever realise, it was more than a job?
I gave you the love and the respect you sought,
But somewhere, my darling, I think you forgot,
In framing the book of my life and my thoughts,
You've a right to opine, but I still call the shots.
In that long list that but seems like a scam,
Lies a confession I'd like to betray,
There's still a special 'first' amidst the rest of that sham,
After all, you're the first time I did learn to say,
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn".
