I love…
…the way you stand on your tip-toes sometimes to kiss me and the way your hand strokes my back while we kiss.
 
Kisses by Edmund Vance Cooke
Kisses
kept are wasted;

Love is to be tasted.
There are some you love, I know;
Be not loathe to tell them so.
Lips go dry and eyes grow wet
Waiting to be warmly met.
Keep them not in waiting yet;

Kisses
kept are wasted.