The Kiss Poem by Andrew David Dalby

With the heavy, steady, drumbeat;
The light dance, resonates resilient,
To leave an aching, longing, wanting.
There's no fragile fresco waiting here;
Instead within hints of a toile tease,
There wrestles wrapped up desire
Entwined with a passion to be free.

Within this swirling, whirling room
I sense the rise of my belated breath,
It comes so close to bloody taught.
I hear the heady unsteady heart strings,
That echoes out a sure chorded chime
And from my pulled and burnished bow;
My well-aimed arrow is now free to go.

Within the moisture of this midnight place
I see my tender dart, take to stable flight,
To gladly note my aim is tight and true.
Then smile, as it selectively slides through
This sweaty, gently writhing crowd to you.
I hear the sigh of you're gently beating heart,
Then I smile at the sealing of the mark.

I see the moon shine upon your lovely face,
I note the sweetest smile, the gentle grace,
The growing love that leaves a fragrant trace.
Oh how I long to sing of your sacred space,
then reach for the merest tender scent of touch;
That leaves me nervous, naked in my raw humility,
As our two lips brush with tender vulnerability.