standingunder an August moonno pocketsin my flimsy flowered dressmy hands have no homeheat risesup my dressnothings underneatha breeze whispersI can’t help but blushplumeria scented breezestreaming down a moonbeamthis nightperfect for romanceyet I’m here all aloneGenie Nakano This was originally published in my book–“Colorful Lives”on Amazon.com or contact Genieyogini@yahoo.com.
Written by
standing
under an August moon
no pockets
in my flimsy flowered dress
my hands have no home
heat 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’m a hopeless romantic.
Guess who??
Late.
Where was I ?
very tranquil…pretty!
This is beautiful
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.
Thanks Raphael–we sure miss you. You’ve been on my mind.
Beautiful.
I love ‘my hands have no home.’
And the picture seems like it was born for this poem.
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