In well wishes 'nd afters,
As if rested: souls asunder,
A heartful of me spares;
a few lips of vexing pecks.

A token to call me by,
A reminder to return to:

"It's a sign of love."

Over days and years,
in this corner of mine;
left for after are kisses:
A plighted; every three.

A token to call me by,
A reminder to return to:

"And I hint selfishness;
It is my sign of love."

And for yours I await.