A kiss is just a tally on a journey
Which leads true lovers just as well as fools;
Yet rendered only once without returning,
It lies, though haunting, dormant -- it never cools.
The weeping willows, tempest-tossed and drear,
Will shed their ill-forgotten leaves, until Spring
Embroiders daffodils afar and near
And quickens branches with color ... and they'll sing
The sings that poets whispered in their leaves:
Of sadness, Aphrodite's broken vow,
Fidelity, and lovers kissed by thieves --
But they missed my tune as I lay under bough
And murmured softly with lips which never strain
To dream of one lost kiss without refrain.
Originally published in Tower Poetry (Winter 2007-2008)
Philip Stephens 