It lingers there, upon mine lips,
Much like that of the morning
Dew upon the delicate petals
Of blooming roses.

It brushes so gently, mine skin,
Much like that of the gentlest
Of breezes on a cool Spring day.

Its sweetness, much like that
Of the scented roses that contain
The shimmering dew of morn
Upon delicate petals that seem
To shine within the birth of
The Sun.

Thy kiss lingers, even though
Thou art gone, sending shivers
Up the spine. This soul glows!
From that ever fleeting, lingering kiss
From thee.

(c) 2003 A Riddle