I stalked the halls and corridors of this world.
I roamed the hills and pressed on into the dim reaches of the forest.
I captained my own ship and roamed the far corners of the seas.
I burned the hours along with the sun yet considered the night to be my friend as well.
I was the hunter…
I trusted not to Cupid’s aim, but took up my own bow and arrows.
Each heart-tipped arrow was dipped in longing, and I named my bow Desire.
I was the hunter…
Neither traps nor tricks did I employ.
I rode no fancy car as my steed, wore no expensive vestments as my armor, no jewels as my raiment.
I used no bait but myself, and became master of my shy smile and flirtatious eyes that held the promise of both strength and tenderness.
But most of all I learned that openness and honesty, stories well told of an interesting life, and the patience not to press were my strongest allies.
I was the hunter…
The weak, the lonely, the desperate, these were never my prey, for that diminished the quest, and I hunted not in the bars and saloons of this world.
Love itself was my prey…
That first acknowledging smile, that questioning gleam in a glittering eye.
When two hands first met and clasped, the first soft embrace, that first sweet kiss that seems to last forever, these were the moments that set my wandering soul at ease.
I was the hunter…
But the moment came, at long last, when that first kiss that seems to last forever was at last placed upon the lips of the one for whom I had unknowingly been searching all along.
And I knew then, deep in my heart, I had at last found the kiss that would last forever.
I was no longer the hunter…
——————————————
For my wife.
She wasn’t the first girl I ever kissed, but she is the best woman I ever kissed.
——————————————–
This post, while inspired by my wife, is also part of the ongoing series of posts called: Romantic Mondays, started by a true romantic, my friend Ed Hotspur. It isn’t that we all need to be reminded every Monday to be romantic, but I guess it doesn’t hurt either. I know that it is Sunday and not Monday. At least it is here in California. But you don’t expect Ed to compile all these posts while he is at work, do you? He is too responsible for that… or else he got caught and he is lying low for a while. I suppose he could just rename the whole series and call it Romantic Sunday, but Ed doesn’t work like that.
To see what other romantic bloggers have come up with this week please visit…
http://edwardhotspur.wordpress.com/2013/02/18/xxx-a-romantic-monday-post/
Pouring My Art Out 
“She was the best woman I ever kissed.”
But it slyly doesn’t say if she was the best kisser you ever kissed. I could kiss a great woman, doesn’t make her a good kisser.
Loved it, nice work sir.
You have spotted the weakness in my armor…
But she is a good kisser too, so… winning…
WINNING! TIGERS BLOOD!
The only character more annoying that Jar Jar. Charlie Sheen’s ego. lol… love it.
The best way to get rid of him is to ridicule him.
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Oooooh.
What is that supposed to mean exactly???
Good work.
I was hoping that was what you meant.
Oh get off it! You KNEW that’s what I meant, you just wanted to read it again, in more detail.
It could have been meant sarcastically or as a show of discontent at my pomposity, or just a gentle reminder to simmer down…
Sigh. Now I’m wasting air.
I will make some fresh air…
Thank you.
But don’t use it all up being exasperated by me…
I like it when it’s fresh so I’ll try not to gulp.
You will just get dizzy and burp and fart a lot.
I’ll be very careful.
Those who live close to you will be grateful…
I liked this! I’m keeping it short & sweet.
Thanks. Me too.
This post is my favorite to date! I love romantic monday (even though I kind of noticed its not monday yet…I’m sure it’s Monday somewhere).
I still find the idea of doing romance on a schedule to be a little strange.
This should have been your Valentine’s Day entry! I’m glad it had a happy ending and your feelings were mutual, or you’d have had to rename this, “I was the Stalker”. For what it’s worth, though, I think Star Stuff is poetry, too.
It does have just the slightest hint of creepiness, doesn’t it? As well as more than a little pomposity.
Well, I wasn’t gonna say…
A certain amount of pomposity is needed in art.
Ya think?
Maybe.