My first true love was only seven
by Pete Crowther
Her hair was fair, her eyes were blue,
She was an angel straight from heaven,
We shared a desk at infants’ school.
Beneath its lid our knees were pressed
Together tightly, warm and friendly
Like two little birds in their own nest,
She was my love, I loved her tenderly.
The golden hairs upon her arm
Even today I can recall,
That clear skin and gentle charm
Of my young sweetheart, Ann Goodall.