I remember the first time I tried it,
I was only a lad of sixteen,
and she was far younger than I.
But more composed and serene.

I was eager, yet terribly awkward.
Uncertain to proceed.
But she seemed not to notice the hesitancy,
with which I prepared for the deed!

I was out at the barn I remember.
At the close of a lush summer day.
The evening was scented with clover,
and the fragrance of new-mown hay!

I remember she made no objections,
or showed evidence of alarm.
For I loved her and she loved me,
since first she came to the farm.

I recall I spoke to her softly,
as I cuddled her face in my hands.
And I saw the look deep in her eyes of a loved one,
who understands.

I remember she moved closer,
the touch of her body warm,
as I slid my fingers over her throat.
She nestled her head on my arm.

Looking back on it,
Now I remember I stood while my heart seemed to spin.
With the thrill of the thing I was going to do.
Yet, I was somewhat reluctant to begin.

Her eyes serene, I thought to rebuke me – for waiting.
For being afraid.
And when old Tillie, the plow horse
looked over her shoulder and neighed.

Long later, I stood up uncertain.
And gazed long at the setting sun,
tingling with pride and yet shaken and aired.
To know that at last it was done.

I remember (it seemed hours later) how my heart
hammered hard under my blouse,
with the joy of a boy turned into man,
as I made my way back to the house.

Twenty years have gone by since that evening,
But I’ve never forgotten my vow.
The thrill and joy I felt as a boy,
on the day I milked my first cow!