RIGHT ON MY LIPS

By John Thomas Tuft

In the sanctuary of her boudoir smiling at her reflection

Beautiful in her youth awakened to passion

She wonders at long delayed desires yet yearning

Outlining her waiting lips with patient turning

While around her lie childhood remnants like mitzvah stones

To keep her anchored to the world, to comfort and atone.

She watches him approaching with casual flair

Asking her to dance, sweeping through the air

It’s a journey they begin, trusting in its end

A life of no challenge unmet, no hurt that cannot mend

It will be as though living out a beautiful script

As she whispers, “I will always keep you close, right on my lips.”

In the passing years she is at the window beseeching stars

Gently swaying with the child swaddled in her arms

Wondering if he will return to her one last time then leave again

For the mistress of war never seems to find a final amen

She dances now in consecration barely moving her hips

As she whispers, “I will always keep you close, right on my lips.”

In the sanctuary of her boudoir avoiding her reflection

Draping her beauty in black, emptied now of all affection

Feeling a stranger has taken up residence deep within her

Despair welling and crashing on the shoals like icy winter

At a sound she turns, into her arms her son now slips

As she whispers, “I will always keep you close, right on my lips.”