Hallmark Holiday IV

I lick my lips: remember how we kissed?
A taste of ripened strawberries still lingers.
I found myself unable to resist
the running of your hair right through my fingers.
To gently stroke your soft, peach colored cheek
and trace your pouty lips and teasing tongue,
the thought of it still makes a man grow weak.
Whatever may be wasted on the young,
it isn't love, I think we've proved that much,
or have we? Has the passing of the years
done anything to dull or numb your touch?
Is love still just as animal, as fierce?
Yes, strawberries, I think, oh they were sweet!
A snack, hon? Is there anything to eat?