Your lips wore that bright yet pretty redness

Of youthful Springtimes and guilty front room giggles

Where virgin kisses were first exchanged,

And the kisses taken from those strawberry lips

Were warmer, sweeter than any I could return

Years on, and full lips, painted pinker

 Came to tenderly touch on mine, expressing

No sweeter sign of love, while I responded

With a kiss from a constant heart, both learning

To understand our kisses and what they would impart.

Our lips have caressed our norths, our souths

To provoke impetuous joy upon each other’s skins

 There has been witchcraft working from your lips

And frequent devilishness from mine

Such eager oral devotion has melded us as one.

Our lips have played a vital role

In years of such devotion. The fumes of all our sighs

Remain in the steam of our love. Hopefully, I have kissed away

All your troubled Winters. And, come my final breath,

All I could ask is, the touch of your lips on mine.