Our first meeting…
Too many hours of straddling my old Hogg…
My lips were so dry, and chapped…
They felt like I had just returned from Hell…
Our eyes locked the moment I walked through the door…
As she stood behind the bar…
She nodded towards an empty stool…
She set an ice cold mug of draft with a hell of a head…
All frosted over the chill…
As if she knew what I wanted without asking…
Those baby blues of her spoke a language I could read…
She smiled with a wink “ it’s on me “
And “ sip it slow “
I was already lost in the baby blues…
“ There’s only one real cure those burnt lips “
Only then did I notice a scent I would never forget…
Her lips were beautifully shaped but bare…
She pulled something out of her front pocket…
I noticed a flash as she removed the lid..
Followed by rising smoke from the end of her lipstick…
I swallowed hard knowing my soul and heart were her’s…
I have been enjoying her lip gloss ever since…
On each anniversary of our first kiss…
She slips on those gloves…
Along with nothing else…
Creative Commons…
A Poet's Haven 
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