Christmas, 1964, The President's Hotel,
Jerusalem.



First Kiss, Last Kiss





I looked sixteen,
Maybe in size,
But not in years.

The tall, Moroccan,
Liftboy-man
Tenderly
Bent down,
And kissed me.
Gently probing
My tongue
Just like I'd read about,
On the plane,
A few hours
Before.


Sheer romance
And scientific curiosity
Combined,
Together
With
The voodoo magic
Of Jerusalem.

A palpable rush
Of excitement
Whirled round
That lift,
And then we arrived,
And I never saw him,

Again.

I flew back,
Almost a woman,
At ten.




Poetry by Esti D-G The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 311 times
Written on 2007-05-19 at 17:59

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Esti D-G The PoetBay support member heart!
changed it a bit so please give it another read and tell me what you think. luv estix
2007-06-16