stand gently here, 
my friend 

after the storm

two bottles, 
half empty 
produce a haunting song 

making harmonies 
like telephones lines 
tinselled with dripping light

they're not entwined
like lover trees
but see them bathe

taking on evening
and sky's renaissance purple

Written for Mish’s dVerse Quadrille #142 (include the word tinsel)

11 thoughts on “Together

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