He kissed her taste of mistletoe, candied sugar of her lips, as warmth of the spirit took its hold in heart and expanding out.
After kiss, they smiled, radiant through meek. She held his hand as body turned and, with other hand, she refined final details to scene’s array.
Party came. Party went, and all throughout conversations and friends’ engage, his attention, interest, and endearments—saved—were hers and hers alone.
She felt it all the night.
They brushed bodies as they passed, wanting to touch but not too strong or overt before others’ eyes. Yet in the pass, in the brush, there lived sense-sweep of the close, a warmth of spirit-flash that wavered in flutter at the ending; different directions, different ways, but eyes always looking back catching and finding other’s in same, radiant through meek.
After party, they cleaned the room, dishes and glasses in the sink.
But they did not finish. Spirit remained. He wanted her mistletoe taste again, the candy of her lips.
He had. He tasted, and they were good. Spirit expanded strong from affected heart, warmth throughout the body.
They left the room, dishes in sink, and ascended for a height; to high vault room and open space away from sight, away from light—mistletoe lovers expanded in spirit.