In the Eye (Mouth?) of the Beholder

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As my eyelashes flutter open, I see his face move close to mine, poised to steal a kiss.  My sleepy smile gets wider when he drops his eyes to my lips, where he keeps his gaze until I give him a good morning grin.  The creases around his twinkling eyes deepen with pleasure, and just as I am about to speak my love, he stops me with a heartfelt declaration of his own.

YOU, he says in awe-filled wonderment, have beautiful teeth.



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  1. Pingback: Utterly Epigrammatic Mutterings | Temperature's Rising

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