That Kiss
That kiss, that kiss, that all too gentle kiss.
Was that really you or a ghostly mist?
That tingling feel of your lips on mine.
Was that real or a dream, oh so, so sublime?
Sweet lips, silken lips, tasting sips of nectar
from my waiting lips.
I long to feel those lips on mine
that encourage shivers along my spine.
With your strong arms to hold me tight
and keep me safe all through the night.
Sweet lips, silken lips, tasting sips of nectar
from my waiting lips.
I long to feel those lips again
that brushed against my feverish skin.
Lips parted gently to linger and play.
Lips that won't vanish or go away.
Sweet lips, silken lips, tasting sips of nectar
from my waiting lips.
© Skya Wode
01 July 1997
