I was a great fan of The Beatles music. I had all their albums even though I was too young to go to concerts and too young to understand all the lyrics. Too young to know about love, or kisses.
In my early teens, I was friendly with boys who were friends. Later, there were exchanges of cheeky kisses. And later still, there were boys who became boyfriends, and kisses became more meaningful.
At fifteen, I was in an art class when a boy I’d never met walked by and our eyes met. We both became transfixed in a stare, gradually causing the whole class to stop what they were doing and fall silent as they become aware of the electricity that was passing between us. An introduction seemed superfluous. We were one. We walked out together, and we kissed. It was honey. Literally, I swear, his lips tasted of honey. Suddenly, I understood the song lyrics.
A taste of honey.
I dream of your first kiss, and then
I feel upon my lips again
A taste of honey
Tasting much sweeter than wine
Yours was the kiss that awoke my heart
There lingers still, though we’re far apart
That taste of honey, a taste of honey
Tasting much sweeter than wine
(by Bobby Scott, Rik Marlow sung by The Beatles on their album Please Please Me)
A Taste of Honey
I once kissed a boy in the back of his car
I once kissed a boy who had money
I once kissed a boy who played a guitar
But I once loved a boy who to kiss was a joy
‘Cos his kisses – they tasted like honey
I was young, I was flirty, like many young misses
Not respecting that boy’s loving care
And I’d heard it in songs about honey lipped kisses
So I thought it was common, not rare.
I kissed lots of boys – up to Barnsley and back
I once kissed a girl – That was funny!
I was kissed by an African man who was black
But none of them tasted of honey
I searched high and low for my lover boy’s lips
And I sampled the kisses of many
I tasted tobacco, curry and chips
But honey? I never found any.
This poem is featured in GEMINI
Amanda Samm 2021