It was three or four in the late lazy weekend afternoon

and I longed to hear your voice in the distant air.

Calling my name.

I would be there by you side taking in your musky scent;

all nice and pleasant, reminding me of the first time I kissed you.

Your scent filled the cool night air consuming me,

your touch soft and inviting.

Yet the kiss was all too awkward,

as first kisses are.

"Better let you go," I whispered.

"Yes," you replied.

But your fragrance lingered bringing a smile to my lips;

like the first taste of honey.

All sweet and full of goodness, swirling upon my tongue.

It was three of four in the late lazy weekend afternoon.

I long to hear your voice in the distant air.

Calling my name.

Wanting a taste of honey.