A summer-grown, unfledged, covetously marked bottle poured over melting ice.
fixated on GW
never slowing Rhythm as she crawled from between her thighs.
He laid unwrapped
Shutter sound of the Nikon
still reminisant of
even their very first night
She took him to Riverside
He taught her how to capture the Light.
She, his tree
with leaves of green when he came in September
Climbed on her bed
riveted the new vantage point
turned to her and said,
"not like the one I used to have."