I kissed your sere lips
And made them sing
They lulled me with serenades
Of a wet, wet spring
When dates were ripe
For the picking
We stood under old man moon
Their juices wicking
Into our parchment mouths
Dry from the day’s toils.
Viscous milk dabbled our chins
Cleansing faces of their soils.
I kissed your lush lips
And made them sing
They pained me with ballads
Of a burning ring
Surrounding our embrace
Flames flicked licking
Our limbs, cheeks, lips,
Clocks stopped ticking
While our passion steamed
As magma boils
Turbulent, shifting, unstable
Each caught in its roils.
I kissed your tart lips
And made them sing
They cheered me with carols
Of a dulcet string
Strummed by my heart
Ceased with its seeking
A mate of its own
Consummate speaking
When yours it met
Brimming with pluck
Apart from our wills
A deal was struck.
I kissed your brisk lips
And made them sing
They swooned me with arias
Of a seraph’s wing
Brought to the earth
By tears spilt, streaking
From a laden heart
Weary and creaking.
Jubilant I swelled
Over my new found luck
This song was not mine
But that of an impish puck.
© 2003 Jason C. Jones