standingunder an August moon
no pockets
in my flimsy flowered dress
my hands have no homeheat rises
up my dress
nothings underneath
a breeze whispers
I can't help but blush
plumeria scented breeze
streaming down a moonbeam
this night
perfect for romance
yet I'm here all alone
Genie Nakano
This was originally published in my book--"Colorful Lives"on Amazon.com or contact Genieyogini@yahoo.com.
I love writing--It's my joy, my therapy--my confession. I'm a performer, dancer, yoga and meditation instructor, write a poetry column for Rafu Shimpo. Growth and love of life is a key to my happiness.
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Genie Nakano 
I’m a hopeless romantic.
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Guess who??
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Late.
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Where was I ?
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very tranquil…pretty!
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This is beautiful
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A beautiful photograph. Is that you or someone else? I posted but forgot to say it was me. Anon
>
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Alone under the August moon.Shame. On on such a beautiful night. At least the romance is captured in this poem.
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Thanks Raphael–we sure miss you. You’ve been on my mind.
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Beautiful.
I love ‘my hands have no home.’
And the picture seems like it was born for this poem.
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