Sealed With A Kiss

Yes it’s gonna be a cold, lonely summer

But I’ll fill the emptiness

I’ll send you all my dreams everyday in a letter

Sealed with a kiss:  Sealed With A Kiss Gary Geld / Peter Udell

When I was going through my teenaged, romantic phase, a boy sent me a love letter via his cousin who was at school with me. It was sealed with wax and pressed with a ring that had his initials. Oh, how romantic. Oh, what pretentious mush. 

An old piece, written in the days when I wrote. I only do slush reading now. This begs the question, (not a question for the ages, but) are you still a writer if you’ve stopped writing? Are you still a slush reader once you’ve stopped reading other people’s attempts at prose? I think yes to the first question and no to the second. You?

I’ve been thinking lately how nice it would be to push myself out of my comfort zone. I was watching some sort of documentary about American musicals last night. How did they do it? I wondered. I guess it’s the dilly type of question that people ask me who don’t write prose. You either can or you can’t is the answer when I’m having a lousy day of it.

I can’t but what the heck; I’ve given it a go. I have taken a trip, back to my past, to a time when things were less complicated. At least they were less complicated for the teenaged me. 

I’ve written a song, (I don’t know what came over me) or at least I’ve written the lyrics. Forget about the melody or chorus. As a writer, I can kid myself that I know words. Mine are most definitely dated because my mindset and I are stuck in the 1960’s. That is my mindset but the teenager essence is missing. Between the ages of 13 to nineteen you are an alien living in and only relating to your own community. Thankfully (or sadly, depending on how you look at it) you come out of it when you reach 20 and can never revisit.

Singers today seem to swallow their words, but if I could understand them, I’m sure that I could relate to them too. I mean, the language or the way the sentiments are phrased would probably be foreign to my ears, but love is love, whether it’s ‘We found love in a hopeless place’ or ‘I’ll send you all my love in a letter sealed with a kiss’ (although I think that emailed or texted with a kiss would lose something in the translation).

Okay, I can’t put off the evil moment any longer. Here’s my yesterday song about an agonising teenager (is there any other kind?). Not very good even by those past standards and possibly not as good as today’s lyrics. But it’s my first (definitely my last), so don’t laugh too hard, will you?

PS.I haven’t got a title for it yet so if you’ve got any suggestions, go for it.

I love you, I love you, I love you

I don’t know what to do.

I tell my deepest thoughts to my pillow at night

But you don’t have a clue.

Every day to you is like another

And every face is the same.

If I came up and asked you about it

You wouldn’t even remember my name.

I love you to distraction

I think of you day and night

I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t concentrate

On anything but love.

My parents tell me to study

My sister says that I’m dumb

My friends all agree I should talk to you

But when I try to, I go all numb.

My heart beats faster

My face goes flush

I stutter and utter inane remarks

And then I blush.

I love you, I love you, I love you

I don’t know what to do.

My pillow knows all my deepest thoughts

But you don’t have a clue