A Kiss and a Shirt

By A.E. Bayne

You were here just a moment ago

or years as it may be

sitting across from me in the club chair staring
while I read the paper in your flannel shirt.

A smile graced your face.
You had to leave for work.

Destroyed by your kisses
my lips stung with salt from the eggs.

Lazily, you lingered at the door;
your shirt I offered teasing later.

Later years, this moment
remains a bright spot -
your lips pressing against my collar bone
and your fingers tangling my hair,
even after returning your shirt
pressed and hung
to your locked front door.