In beauty, remember the lips,
Not to be missed is the kiss,
That comes between word slips,
To speak anew that nothing’s amiss.
The word or kiss may come at night,
Both can have their own appeal,
Illuminating soul’s inner light,
To illustrate truth’s quiet deal.
Prefer the choice of the word,
Something there I can parse,
While the kiss is oft’ absurd,
Leading itself to a smiling farce.
The juxtaposition of the oral muscles,
Gives the physiology of the kiss,
Interpretations vary, oft’ with tussles,
Mixing scores as a hit or miss.
(You respond with a gracious smile,
While you’re here, linger a while.)
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.