every sense devoured, released and distant
now, her colours wash in moonlight
jasmine scents the way around her garden
while the city haunts, desperate
for another round of take-away bravado
in the sleek of night it seems
she might be silvered smoke – rising
silence
forget me now 
I love the “word” of silence at the end. It feels that reverent that one should be required. A beautiful piece and a photo filled with freedom.
i’m so happy you enjoyed this, Annie!
that single word seems to do its job then – good, wasn’t sure if it would work but you absolutely got it …
I am swooning at the possibility of silvered smoke…this is pure the absolute essence of poetry…love love love!
oh my darling Lunatique – i’m happy that you’re swirling in the smoke …
there will be more to this but suspect a sharper edge in the wait … weight …
i’m at muse-mercy on this one and we know what she’s like …
thank you, lovely soul … x