My Starlight

Memory of things to happen
are the hope of all our dreaming.
All the things we dream together,
start as memories yet to be.
Together is the future us,
even as we feel the distance,
long miles put between us.
Let me hold you, inhale your scent,
lie against your soft, supple, skin,
until our reality is
closer than dreams we choose to have.
Each memory’s a wish of us.

A small acrostic poem where the first letter of each line spells Mia Stell Luce, My Starlight in Italian (translation is dubious, so apologies to any Italian speakers).

text by stuartcturnbull picture by Ronald Plett via Pixabay