Lost Arts

In between complaining about firewood
And the lost art of book binding
You sighed
Then to my surprise leaned over and kissed me
At that point it was a first
A stand-alone meeting of lips
Gee, can you do that again, I thought
But my lips locked and my voice stepped outside for a little air
The fact that there had been no hints of this coming kiss
Made me smile...

As you went on
Complaining of the lack of firewood
And the lost art of book binding
And all your various responsibilities
I just listened and wished
That you'd sigh again

Oh, yeah, and kiss me...