First Kiss (A Love Poem)

Today I write of his eyes. Small, insignificant, the color of moss when you look at it from above river water.

He squints when he looks at me, trying to find my heart between winter trees. It was cold between those trees. Our breath warm.

He became a forest god and I the dew-eyed damsel among the snow, waiting for his kiss, his touch, his love to resurrect me.

And there in the Gothic dark of winter, he brought me out of the shadows.

Photo by: Stories By Ash

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