We held hands
while ice skating.
We experimented
with kisses.
His full lips
were pleasant on mine.
He rode a bicycle
for over a mile,
from his home to mine.
He became a soldier.
I snapped his picture
in his Army uniform.
Fifty years later,
the picture was published
with my 1944 memoirs article.
Ernest Eichhorn died
on D-Day, June 6, 1944,
on Normandy's shores.
I'm left to relate
the tale of young love.
Innocent we were --
holding hands,
ice skating,
and kissing.