A young man doesn't always think with his head
There are often less admirable organs in play;
When decisions are made - those go/no go choices,
That you come to regret at the end of the day.
I made a few bad ones in the interminably lonely
Years spent blundering up and down and everywhere.
Knowing in the hard world, you were still out there.
Lips are stupid things that dull the wits and heat the brain.
Seven times I found myself fired off the wrong direction,
By gunpowder kisses, laced with hormones and fire till at last
I learned to keep them closed - for my own protection.
Stupid me I never thought that you might not be
An ardent kisser; that you might be a creature
Of wind and fire, mind and passion more than I ever,
Bargained for, and that lips are but a single feature.
And in the end I found that passion is not the thing
I thought it was, when I was young and hormone-raged.
I've learned a steady fire heats passion better than explosions.
And has settled in my soul; grown ever deeper as we've aged.
(c) 2015 by Tom King