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 chary;
If truth be known, she was the first I’d kissed;
She sensed it so, ‘close your eyes’, she chided;
With heart fair set to burst its’ very 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 not a kiss, but love bestowed.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.