Tuesday, May 4, 2021

Poetic Asides/ Poetic Bloomings 5-3 The First

First Kiss

There’s some confusion about our first kiss.

We both remember where we were that day.

But things get jumbled when we reminisce.

“You kissed me first,” he’ll consistently say.

“No, It was you who kissed me,” I’ll replay.

One night, he proposed, but without a ring.

He says New Year’s and I say Thanksgiving.

So who kissed who, we do not really know.

And when we agreed to marry, same thing.

We’ve been hitched forty-one years, even though.

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