by Neal Caminsky
(Montreal, Quebec, Canada)
In the darkest hour
of the brightest day,
On the evening of the morning star,
I sit nervously, hair standing on end.
Time ticks unmoving, fleeting ever so slowly.
Lights dim, her eyes beaming.
A bead of sweat, pools on my forehead.
My heart races, pounding laggardly.
My hand reaches out, drawing her in.
Lips thicken, my breath compresses.
Capture the instant, thoughts suddenly liberated.
Eyes closed have never seen so clearly.
At long last, that precious first kiss.
Only a moment, perennial in eternal bliss.
A joyous end to a new beginning.
Everlasting, conundrum that is love.