Sun Burnt Kisses

I feel the soft kisses. I crave them. Like tender strokes of golden fire, they touch down and leave my skin warm as fresh pie. When my bones are rattled with cold, opulent orange hues heat my thoughts. In the dark, it is yawning yellow sunflowers reaching toward those soft kisses that I dream of. Like a lazy-dazed cat, I bask in those soft kisses. I turn warm as steaming fresh-baked bread under an amber blanket. Soft kisses caress my cheeks and lips to mine for winter locked freckles. But the kisses, Like a scorned lover's revenge, May nip and bite if neglected. Yet I crave them: those soft, summer kisses.