STOLEN KISS. | By: Terry Collett | | Category: Short Story - Love Bookmark and Share


Monsieur Boutonís daughter
Walks the house like a ghost.
Sheís in love with her brotherís
Lover, she has dreamed of her

For many nights, hugged her
Pillow as a phantom of her,
Kissed her own hand pretending
It was her brotherís loverís. She

Peers from her window for any
Signs of her coming, stares at
Each stopping cab, each passing
Woman, any shadow cast. Celine,

Her father says, you walk like
One who is haunted, have you
Nothing to occupy? Oh, yes,
Pere, I have, my mind is fully

Occupied, my mind is full of things.
She sits and waits; her fingers
Fiddle; she bites her lips. Is that
Her? Was that her voice? She stands

On the landing looking down and
Sees her brotherís lover by the door.
Her hat and coat are taken off and
Gloves removed and settled down.

Then she looks up and smiles at
Celine and climbs the stairs one
At a time, her footsteps gentle,
Her eyes transfixed, singing softly

Some melody; the song, the words,
Bring Celine bliss, they remind her
Of the day before, and the stolen kiss.

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