• 19Aug
    Categories: Grieving Comments: 3

    He kissed me.

     

    Not a hurried kiss as he ran out the door, or even a passionate kiss hungering for something more, but rather a kiss full of love, care, admiration and concern.

     

    I can feel his heat as he pulls me close, his eyes so full of love, his hands gentle on my waist.  My fingers curl around his neck and into his hair.  I love to play with his hair.  He just looks at me, smiling softly.  He thinks I’m wonderful.  He thinks I’m desirable.  I can see it in his face.  He leans closer and his forehead touches mine, and then his lips cover mine, gently, protectively.  His cheek is rough; his hair is freshly washed, his lips firm and enticing. 

    I step closer, wanting more,

              but he’s gone . . .

3 Comments to Kissed

  • oh, the memories. Sweet and yet wanting for the reality. My prayer is that the sweet remains and the wanting is not so hard. You are loved

  • Remembered loving — but waiting for you in heaven.

    I’m glad you have good memories. He was a good father, a good husband, a good friend. Hang onto the memories, but look ahead. Love, Gram E.