The First Love

How awkward is the first love,
As awkward as the first bra.
You feel confused and proud same time,
It bends your back;
And rise at your head to the heaven.
You swear never ever to look at him again!
That’s all over!
And in the evening you furiously stuff
under the pillow,
Or thoroughly hide it in the cupboard.
But a red stripe still remains around your body
As a life buoy.
And you boldly swim
From your unripe childhood shore
To the other side,
Where the forbidden and tasty ripe fruit garden is.
And a silver bell of a bicycle Rings
and calls you.