It Poem by Duard Cabral

the lonely kiss
i felt on a night so cold and muted bliss
never utter a word nor silent hissed
never intended yet why so missed
that's the kissers' kiss

though i search for reasons
discern sanity made no conclusion
i seek through numbers and untimely seasons
the vivid moment found no solutions
for the lonely kiss's incohesions

the kissers' kiss unlust
so sudden and warm then gusts
i hunt the reasons; that is a must
found no time, still all hope and trust
will go beyond from dawn and dust

the lonely kiss depart
left a mark; engraved on the heart
forsaken not, for they say 'it' is an art
still missing, the vital has not impart
i long awaits the lonely kiss repartee