I kissed her then as if it were the first—
Dry, quivering lips too tense to tarry;
Heart in my throat, I kissed her as I durst,
Her shuttered eyes I watched with gaze so wary;
By truth alone, she was the first I’d kissed—
She sensed it so, “close your eyes”, she chided;
With heart fair set to burst within my breast,
I pressed her lips again—eyes closed, abided.
An old man passing by seemed fair amused,
“Kiss her as if it were the very last”,
He said, “Destiny is not to be presumed”;
The warm smile on his wizened face quick passed.
He left me with a debt I’ve ever owed:
A kiss is no mere kiss where love’s bestowed.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.