Black and white
This photograph
Touch me
And we
Move
Slow dance
And midnight moonlight
River’s snaking over land,
Through states and over lines
Non existent parallelograms
You speak words that don’t exist
Talk to me of stratospheres
The immeasurable cold space
Between stars
And planets
Negative measurements
And you hold me
Until I would never let you
Let me go
And we are just
A dream
Someone else might have
The perfect way to be
Black and white
This photograph
I touch
With broken heart,
And tip toe fingertips . . . .