The moon wanders past our window,
as silent as the thunder in a small bird's heart,
you gaze at it in wonder,
while I stand from you apart
watching the yellow champagne of beams,
quicksilver a wild feather flow
to fall across your skin,
I find myself, in this room's small space,
less in wonder of the beauty of the moon,
just captured by the jasmine sweetness
of the softness of your face....
Vic Gamble