Anna and the French Kiss
As I wandered about the lush lawn
In the gazing ball I glimpsed
A breath-taking young woman with a touch of innocence
In her soulful, violet eyes.
I was mesmerized by her beauty
And I had to look up to see that this vision was real.
I did so slowly, and found her gazing a bit boldly
Straight into my very soul.
When she was sure she had bewitched me,
She slowly turned and walked down the garden path
Knowing that I would follow, meek as a lamb
Into her lair.
Into a secret garden she led me,
This girl with the violet eyes and beautiful thick hair
Which she started to unpin and let fall,
Cascading down her back like a waterfall of shining waves.
When we reached the center of the garden,
She turned and waited for me
To come close enough to see the rise and fall of
Her beautiful breasts, corseted to their full advantage.
Though they were lovely, it was the eyes that held me.
She ran a light finger along my lips then pressed it to her own.
It was then I noticed the fullness of her mouth, lips slightly parted
And silently beckoning me to join my lips with hers.
And so I did, and the kiss that ensued was
Warm, and sensuous, and became urgent as it continued.
I felt her tongue and tasted her sweet breath and thought
I might faint at the passion that coursed like lightning through my body.
And without notice, it ended, and I opened my eyes
And found myself standing along in the garden
My very body still on fire with the electricity
Of that kiss.
In a daze, I stumbled back toward the party,
And upon seeing my unsteadiness, my host
Invited me into the manor to cool myself
Out of the heat of the sun.
As we walked through the massive doors,
I glanced up, and over the enormous marble mantle
Was a portrait of the girl with the large violet eyes,
And the cascade of dark hair, and the lips I still felt upon my own.
I asked my host shakily, “Who is that”?
He replied with a shudder that she was Anna,
His betrothed, who had been lost on the sea
And had never been recovered.
Years later I wonder, was she ghost or spirit,
Was she there that only I could see?
The passion, the taste of her lips,
Still electrifies my body and soul as I dream of Anna’s French kiss.
Written 8.22.21
Copyright © Linda Craddick | Year Posted 2021
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