The Open Door

I asked her for a kiss, just one;

She acquiesced, the deed was done.

And ere I left I asked, in fear,

“May I not give it back, my dear?”

“Not good enough to keep?” sworth she,

Ignoring all my misery.

“Perhaps if it were sealed,” said I,

“‘Twould keep intact until I die.”

“I would not seal it,” cautioned she,

In tones of tempting mystery.

And when I asked the reason why,

“Unhandy,” laughed she in reply.

Jan. 6, ‘08