We kiss, we two old ladies,
Each time we say good bye.

As if sealing a bond,
we will meet again,
And talk again.
This vow taken by silent agreement,
keeps us alive.

Unsure where,
Here
Or in another place,
This kiss stands up to time.

Our kiss plays with the universe,
As more than a slight peck on the
Cheek
And less than a full,
Hollywood
Smooch.

No sloppy slobber, this kiss
With its dryness of age
Crackles as we let it linger on the four lips
Unaccustomed to telling lies.

We wonder, first off
Whether the Dames , we admire so, kiss.
Do they lay one on each other,
as we do,
A guarantee of future meetings.

Or are we alone in our gesture,
As we wonder many things.
From our history of kisses
Lost in  a mountain’s mist,
Lingering in a neverland of why,
To the questioned when,
when is the day they will
End our conversations
With a final good bye.

Fated to satisfy a gnawing need
For meeting,
Till then
Our two souls, with their kiss,
Punctuate each remaining day.

We giggle,
coming closer for
The just, one more,
Unblemished
Kiss.

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville, Virginia