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