First kiss

 At your door,
When it is time for that first kiss,
I will make it,
Sweet,
Tender,
Touching.

Something you,
And I,
Will always,
Have as a,
Special memory.

I’ll hint that it is coming,
One hand will tilt your face up,
The other will brush your hair back from your cheek.

I will look delicately into your eyes,
While my hands caress from your chin and cheek,
Around your shoulders,
To enfold you in my arms.

I won’t say a word,
Talking about it,
Ruins the mood.

Rather,
I will ask you,
For your permission,
With my actions.

I will hug you close to me,
So that your chest is against mine,
Your hips touching mine.

At that moment you will answer my request for permission,
By stretching up on your toes,
Like the ballet dancer you are,
So that with a slight tip of my face towards yours,
Our lips will met.

No tongue,
No nibbling,
No bruised lips,
Not this first time.

Just our lips,
Sharing a tasting of each other,
For the first time.

When breathlessly our lips part,
While still holding you against me,
I will smile and that smile,
Will ask,
If you would like another.

It will be your hands,
One on the back of my head,
The other around my neck,
That will answer,
By pulling us together a second time.

This time there will be,
A touching of tongues,
A more intimate sharing,
With and of each other.

It will be my body,
With one of my hands on your back,
And the other just above your waist,
Holding you tightly against me,
That will ask you for a third kiss.

It will be your body,
With your leg sliding up the outside of my leg,
Wrapping around my hips,
That will answer back to me.

This much longer kiss,
Will,
With open mouths,
And tasting tongues,
Both ask and answer,
Much,
About what we feel,
What we mean,
To each other.

As that third kiss ends,
Without a word,
Your hand will take mine,
And pull me in your door.