THE KISS

Heavens sweet breeze,
the soft touch
of rain on my face. My soul is aflame as
you draw near,
like the sun that draws the
mist from the glen.

How could I pray for
such bliss; this rapture of a kiss,
Soft lips pressed to mine, arms holding
each other tight;  afraid that this fleeting
moment might take flight.

Passion flows like the sea rushing
to kiss the
shore,  giving no
rhyme or reason;  the choice
neither kind or cruel.

Secrets of the past have no meaning here
burnt out by the heat of melting lips;
the promise of endless bliss,
a soft moan,
the rapture of the kiss.

A gentle breeze,
a touch of rain, as a tear runs down my cheek.
 I turn my head away to keep
holy your kiss upon my
lips. A kiss that
burns you
through and through…

Then I watch as you
walk away.