This is Not a Love Song Yet



A smidgen of a full moon cushioned in clouds

feeling your smile curl me up into a love song

stuck in a glass bottle world glowing with humid lamplight

I see life like an old movie screen cracking through louvres

laughter over the wafting of steak cooking on coals

in the glasshouse of immediacy, I hear your footsteps

love creeping upon me like moonshine

breathing like palms waving gently in a summer breeze

dissolving droplets upon the sultry air

the freshness of your sight sees more than the surface

and together we dive right on in


Poem and photo  © Dianne Turner 2016


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