The Kiss, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Munch-the-modern-eye-kissThe Kiss, Edvard Munch (1897)

The Kiss

Your kiss is the summer sun
That warms me from head to toe
My heart your kiss does beckon
Making my blood briskly flow

Your kiss excites to no end
Raising my feet off the ground
Feelings I don’t comprehend
Yet joys it provides abound

Your kiss please never withhold
For I would most surely grieve
My heart would turn bitter cold
Fearing that you might soon leave

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