Kisses Poem by Edmund Vance Cooke
Kisses
Kisses kept are wasted;
Love is to be tasted.
There are some you love, I know;
Be not loathe to tell them so.
Lips go dry and eyes grow wet
Waiting to be warmly met.
Keep them not in waiting yet;
Kisses kept are wasted.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: lips
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8/25/2026 6:39:21 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
