I wonder who’s kissing the love of my life To the Celtic refrains of a lute and a fife. Does he whisper to rhythms unfettered and bold Of her heart as it beats in a ravenous hold. Is he tracing the lines of her freckles and hair While she thinks about others to whom he compares? Does he murmur sweet nothings to his lover’s delight, While she wonders how long he will be Mr. Right? Is it passion or pleasure their silhouettes sketch On the rose colored mattress upon which they stretch? Does he harbor this secret from a lover or wife? I wonder who’s kissing the love of my life.