There was no hint that he
would take my hand
and there plant a kiss.

There was no warning
that it would tingle first
and rush to my very center;

the brush of soft lips
I think
the unusualness,
the velvety breath
those eyes of his
looking up as he placed
his mouth there lingering
which too
caused another rush
rudding my cheeks
to crimson hue.

No one kisses hands these days
but he did;
and I so suprized I almost curtised
but flummoxed instead I
placed my hand
on his adoring cheek
planting there
my own kiss;

a gesture proffered
but meantime he
took my hand
and placed it upon his other cheek--
a startling match between hand and kiss
was all it took
for romance to begin--
 

no matter how far any romance might go--
because in love
much is to be said for perfect beginnings
and small gestures.