Snog is such an ugly word,
for something so divine,
That sizzling sensual harmony,
Of when your lips meet mine.

Snog’s not a word encapsulating,
The beauty of our embrace,
Much more than kiss, an utter bliss,
No kin to ‘sucking face’

So who first scribed the ugly mot?
It can’t have been from Bard begot,
That runt of a grunt of ugly ill,
Came not from ink on Shakespeare’s quill

It warms the core of this man’s heart,
Sends shivers down his spine,
And trips across my very soul,
In dances soft sublime.

And melding melting, here with you,
Enwrapped in this kiss supreme,
I float in mind enlocked with yours,
Like some ethereal dream.

Come dally soft with lips and tongue,
In oneness, fragrant honey brung,
A tear of joy rolls down my face,
If there is love this is its grace.

This is the kiss of head and heart,
Not founded in the loins,
But stirs the passions more than all,
When we become conjoined

Could just one word, one measly word,
Describe the rapturous bliss?
God given in this wondrous act,
Most heavenly of kiss

So kiss me now in this pure way,
And let it reach up into your eyes,
That laugh and tease and shine for me,
Unlike that word despised.