I told myself I wasn’t prepared,
But underneath, I was just scared.
A “nice guy” shield of pride and pain,
Afraid to lose if I dared to gain.

 

I kept my heart behind a wall,
Too proud to stumble, too scared to fall.
But love won’t bloom where fear won't bend—
I blocked the start and missed the end.

 

At twelve, desire whispered soft and low,
But I denied that need I came to know.
I called it virtue, framed it all as choice,
Yet trembled if I dared to find my voice.

 

My first kiss came from her cunning play,
She tricked me into no more delay.
She drew me in with laughter and light,
And that’s when I fell for Donna White.

 

In Grandma’s truck on back country roads,
Our hands here and there, we’d often explode.
But when she dreamed of wedding bells,
I said “not yet,” and she wished me well.

 

I kept my heart behind a wall,
Too proud to stumble, too scared to fall.
But love won’t bloom where fear won't bend—
I blocked the start and missed the end.

 

In New York's City, with nary a win,
With my friend we looked deep within.
Each post-date talk showed my tone-deaf style—
My clueless ways had no chance to beguile.

 

With books and truth and Anne’s sweet grace,
I learned just how to do that chase.
By ‘70 I’d found my way to more,
And love knocked often on my open door.

 

Now looking back, I see what shaped my fate—
The fear of seeming less than good or great.
Being brave is more than looking nice—
It’s risking that for love’s paradise.

 

I kept my heart behind a wall,
Too proud to stumble, too scared to fall.
But love won’t bloom where fear won't bend—
I blocked the start and missed the end.