i remember once a dawn.
a dawn in the years of being on the verge.
the verge of understanding, wisdom, womanhood.
he was but two years my senior.
i could feel the tingle of the sins of summer in the whisper of the dew-saturated trees.
i had fled the house of my father out of spite and yearning.
yearning for wisdom, understanding, knowledge.
to the corn field i had gone.
the smell of growing things clung to the air.
and he was there, with an expression of compassion.
with a hint of pleasure, an invitation :
"join me, she who possesses the eyes with sorrow.
i have been so lonely, and the sight of you brings pleasure to these eyes that have known such weeping."
so to him i went, with a hesitant step.
there, amongst growing things and the chirping of crickets, we spoke.
of disappointment, of spite, of intentions.
after hours of rambling, his arm had crept around my waist.
i could only cry out in my thoughts,
"o subtlety, o cruel waiting.
seduce me now, and quench my need."
his hand, gentle, that of an artist, softly brushed back the hair from my brow.
to him i turned, in my eyes that devilish shine brought on by the sin of summer.
in his eyes, a carnal yearning.
babble of intentions forgotten, he took me.
and i let him, for in my lower belly there was a tingling.
the tingling of anticipation.
upon my neck he brushed his lips, whispered of false love.
so there, amidst growing things and dew, i was taken.
he clutched me, held my hand.
in his eyes the shimmer of animal need.
it was empty of love, only sin.
the sin of summer, of youth.
a delicious pain.
we did not make love.
sin was our creation.
a passage into the realm of the wise.
he guided me into understanding and knowledge.
to gain wisdom one must sin.
sin against god, against all that is good and pure.
a teenage rebellion.
a seduction of youth and innocence.
the process of being tainted.