My fingers brush the hair from your face.
You smile as my hand lingers
At the back of your neck,
Pulling you closer to me
Until our lips touch.
I feel your arms around me,
Holding me closely, tightly,
Afraid to let go.
Knowing in your heart that letting go
Might just be the end.
Your body presses against mine,
But all too soon it’s time to go.
A brave smile and goodbye,
Words half-meant, spoken lightly.
Turning to go, dreading to leave.
If parting is such sweet sorrow,
I’d just as soon not mourn.
Jan. 25, 1991
© 2010 – 2011, Steven R. Drennon. All rights reserved.