The Kiss

Teresa Harrison-Best wrote this poem … a playful twist on the first kiss encountered by a less than enthusiastic young man.

The Kiss

He could feel his hands slightly shaking,
his mouth was as dry as bone.
His fear now growing apparent
as he fiddles around with his phone.

In the movies they make it look simple,
pucker your lips then just blow.
He takes a deep gulp and a swallow
and turns a shade whiter than snow.

She juts out her chin for the moment
and waits for the passion to come.
His palms are now sweating profusely,
he wishes he was home with his mum.

Now she’s leaning towards him quite keenly
with her lips all ready to pout.
He baulks at the thought of that fixture
and wishes that he could bailout.

The solution is really quite painless,
he’ll give her a peck on the cheek.
She clutches him just as he touches,
he lets out a panicky squeak.

Next she snogs him with passion,
a big old, slobbery kiss.
For smooching was her intention,
she’ll have her moment of bliss.

His wheezing and coughing diminished
as he pulls away from her grip.
He tries to wriggle and squirm now
to avoid her eager red lips.

Frustrated by his lack of commitment
she flounces off into the night.
He watches her turning a corner,
now relieved that he is alright.

He’s decided to give up on women.
It’s an area he’d rather not delve.
There’s plenty of time for canoodling,
after all he’s still only twelve.

Written by Teresa Harrison-Best