Jack Ross Knutson

The Stolen Kiss

We shared a drink over my kitchen table
I leaned over and kissed her on the lips
Shuddering, she recoiled as in horror
Exclaiming, ‘you’re too old’!
Shocked I realized I was thirteen years older
As the years went by from that desultory and sudden cleaving
And the age delta marched relentlessly closer to insignificance
A random flashback recalled the incident and impulse of that unrequited love
She had been afraid she wasn’t woman enough for me
I’ve always thought love requires reciprocation to be real
But the echo of that moment somehow rings true