the kiss

 

a kiss brushed against innocence like a present

neatly wrapped for a Christmas morning.

the children, full of anticipation, are unable to sleep

while their parents downstairs worry about the bills.

there are so many bills.

 

perhaps time has imagination after all,

or at least energy.

its incessant plodding and the clocks always ticking, ticking,

drowning out the sound of your heart

but not the words you whisper.

such sweet words.

 

time fails when we are together.

we slip between it like waves through the rocks.

another kiss then until tomorrow,

when it awakens like an angry sky,

uncertain witness to our night.

 

3/8/12