The Kiss: By Belle

At evening’s end, my friend,
No bim, no bam, no thank you ma’am,
No, sir, not you—
But rather a slow confident matching of lips to lips,
As if they had already met,
And had now returned to claim their rightful place.

Lips deliciously sweet like honey dew,
Or luscious cantaloupe,
—or sweeter—
Like watermelon quenched by fallen morning dew,
Then reddened under an August 1st sun.

T’was only a few seconds,
At evening’s end, my friend,
That blended lips in harmony under a moonlit sky.

Yes, t’was only a few
—albeit—
M-m-m sweet seconds,
At evening’s end, my friend,
That caught me
pleasantly
off guard.

From: The Seasons of Love
poetry by belle