We danced the dance
music weaved by the moonlight.
He picked my ruins
with his silky touch put them back
at where rainbow left the traces.
He drew our names on the sand
dawn pasted into our memory.
“Will you write about me?” he asked.
“It doesn’t work that way” i replied.
but our kisses mingle with the wind.
And so, we stay within the moment.
It started when he took my hand while his heart refused to calm.