She waits in the shadows of her sleep for her man to arrive,
to take her in his arms and enamour her with lost kisses.
The shadows depart as the sun streams in and a new day begins,
same old, same old, life without those stolen kisses!
The man next to her is not the one in her dreams.
He finishes work to rush to his new bride.
Wraps her in his arm and floods her with love.
Time spent always seemed less.
It flows by and he is off to work again as she is to hers.
Work which takes away most of their time.
A coy look, subtle glances and then the first kiss.
They were first lovers to each other.
They were the first ones to experience a real kiss.
Age however leads them on and sets them off into different paths.
Life does have a way to nudge things on differently.
Lovers change, kisses melts from the first to many, age puts its mark.
Yet, passion is the reason for existence.
Passion makes life a bit more meaningful.
Passion is also the cause of war and crime.
Rocking on her chair in her retirement home,
Maria has experienced it all.
pulsingthoughts 