The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

your lips brush mine
as tentative as my breath
floating visible in winter.
your arms pull me to you
as gently as the breeze
lifts the birds in spring.
your body presses into mine
as tenderly as the mist
rising from the lake in fall.
your heart wraps mine
as welcoming as a lake
suspends you in summer.

memories of you linger.

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