Years ago, in the late 1970's, a friend was showing me slides of a Mediaeval event she'd attended at the University of Toronto. I was enjoying them, in a relaxed fashion, when I suddenly saw a picture of the most handsome man I'd ever seen.
I joined the group and made a lot of friends but, over the next few years, one friend in particular had taken a dislike to this handsome man -- who'd seemed interested in me. She threw a spanner in the works at every opportunity, although I didn't realise it until years later, with the result that we both ended up married to other people.
This is for my first love ... and for what might have been.
You kiss me firstly with your eyes
Persuading me with burning glance
That sweeps my features and implies
The launching of a grand romance.
And then you kiss me with your voice
The warmth of it surrounding me,
Enticing me to make a choice
And choose your clever repartee.
You kiss me lastly with your hand.
Your touch is gentle on my arm.
It tells me that you understand
Me well, and adds much to your charm.
Mayhap you’ll kiss me with your lips
And give me love in nectar’d sips.
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