The first kiss we exchanged took place in the front yard of your home on a still night. It was too perfect in a sense, no night insects wizzing past our ears no passing cars, nor blaring car horns, time had just stopped.
We shared the seat on a sumputuously decorated grated metal bench that hung sturdily from a well structured pole. Rustic lighting showered the features of that beautiful night with an angelic border, silhoutting the attractive essentials of your beauty–glory–my heart screamed.
Your eyes seemed to stare through me like you saw everything I wanted in love, and if you mistook that moment foor lust, then forgive me , because I stared through you and was a witness to your pain
Witnessed a desire reelative to love.
You met me 25% and I 75% as we partook in a moment that came to determine what we were to one another, and when our lips met, moon nor stars, nor any combusting far away planet radiated more light than what you imbrued my heart with. That kiss was like rose peddles grazed by a rare hovering humming bird. Lanae, I still love you.

Terry Little
DOC #A562207