Love's First Kiss
Michael Nesmith / Fred Myrow

The sharp crowded moments
And disinterested blur slip far back in memory
As thought rises higher.
Painting scenes of forests
Welded white with snow,
Breath that hung in stillness,
The quietness of the road.

You were warm,
As winter's snowflake
Settled on your hair
That first touch was intimate
And drove away the fear.

Somehow I saw the moon that night.
It peeked through broken clouds.
It seemed quite odd to see the moon,
But I understand it now.

It had come to bless
Love's first kiss,
To keep romance alive
And give us both
Sweet memories,
And help our thoughts to rise.