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My first love was Mingo. I was eight years
old and I loved him dearly. He was very handsome.
We first met each other in grammar school. We
would sit next to each other in the classroom, and in the evenings we
would lie on the grass and see the stars. We would hold each other’s
hands and pat kisses to each other on our cheeks.
But one day he left and I stayed waiting
under the moonlit sky and star filled nights.
Many years later, he called me and said that
he was married and living in Philadelphia. Today my first love is
nothing but a faint memory.
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