First Kiss

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“Kiss me.”

“Kiss you? You have got to be kidding. We are worlds apart. “

“You’re just saying that. Come and kiss me.”

“Kiss you? I’m in the prime of my life. I’m shining. I’m glorious. I’m irridiscent. I’m luscious.”

“And green. You’re so green. Admit it. You’ve never been kissed.”

“I don’t have time for kissing. I need to find my place in the world. To be flexible. To maneuver. To bask in the sunshine.”

“But sooner or later you will kiss me.”

“Perhaps.”

Why wait? Come kiss me now. You could be the first. I haven’t been kissed at all.”

“You mean you haven’t been kissed this year.”

“Yes. I have such a short memory. Well you know, in the fall I’ll be kissed by so many thousands. If you wait that long I won’t even remember you. You will be just another.”

“But now I’m on top. I’m in production. My boss depends on me.”

”It won’t always be that way. Sure, you have your spring and summer.”

Boy do I ever.

“But then comes the autumn. You’ll start to wrinkle. You’ll dry up.”

“But until then….”

“You’ll lose your natural color. You’ll turn yellow, then brown.”

“Who knows? Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll stay up here and keep myself busy.”

“You’re talking high now. But you and all your friends up there will come down and kiss me in the end.”

“My very first kiss?”

“And your last one too. Gravity and the seasons are so unforgiving. And no leaf lasts forever. Yes, your tree may last for hundreds of years. But you will kiss me soon. And I will be waiting.”

“Where will I go then?”

“You will become part of me. And help me welcome the leaves of autumn next. So why not come down now? I’m waiting.”

“Okay.”

“You’re coming?”

“I’m coming. But not just yet.