I wish very much that I could
hold your face in my two
hands and
kiss your mouth.
I am sure your kisses could feed me:
I could live on the
sustaining elegance of their touch.
A warmth and sweetness
would fill my mouth,
a wine of such eloquence,
no speech, no words would
dare to imitate.
Your mouth invites kisses
as honey in the comb
invites tasting:
as red, crisp apples
want biting;
as the cool, orange- yellow
of peach and nectarine
seek to be sipped, nipped,
licked and savored.
While the kisses of your mouth
could nourish me and my soul
for eons,
no measurable time
would pass through the
duration of their gift,
and lifetimes would endure while I
kissed your mouth
held between my two hands.