An old memory is born

An old memory is born

Feel my hands
Feel up your back, then
Rest your head back
On my right palm.

Over you I hover,
Eyes search eyes.
Slowly, calmly.
Time holds its breath.

Lips part; still I hover
Breathing you deep.

This kiss will not be
Like the early explorations,
Not the proving of manhood,
Nor the fencing of passion.

This kiss will not be
Like the early supplications,
No grateful spine-tingles
No sense of surrender:

We no longer wonder;
We know.
Life has arisen
Life will stand good.

This kiss will be equal
And deep-breathed calm.
It will be the sweetest kiss
Of our long lives.