Richard W. Reith


He sits remembering his first kiss,
So soft and warm and new.
His first love, her first touch,
He is remembering others, too.

But ones first love is a memory
That sticks to you like glue,
Bringing joy, and a sense of peace
Remembering others can’t do.

And he remembers his first child,
The emotions he couldn’t subdue;
New life, new world, new everything:
And sits remembering the others, too.

But that first touch of eternity,
Brings life into clearer view,
And remembering others just clarifies
The wonder of life for you.

So lovingly remember all your “firsts,”
That have become such a part of you.
For remembering others will edify,
But “Firsts” taste like the morning dew.