One fine summer, my lover left. 
 
I dream of her dancing in the balcony, 
wearing a bright yellow dress. 
 
She sings rhapsodies and old folk songs, 
the anklet on her left foot dances along.
 
On nights like these, I bleed out moonshine,
while she blooms out wreaths from her scars;
 
Reaching for her, I float along,
into air that smells of memories and cigars. 
 
Scarlet autumns and pastel springs, 
her smile like a warm bonfire in wintry winds.
 
I dream of her as the seasons turn, 
but I lose her every time the summer comes. 
 
Photography by: Jackson David on Unsplash