Moments like this
Are when I wish I had my Polaroid
An infinite moment to make me think
"This would make a beautiful photograph"
(The photographer's curse, darling),

I'm content to just let this moment be, though
Though at the same time, my mind's eye strains to see
What this would be:
We're glossed with sweat and crowned with messy hair
My teeshirt's too big; my legs are bare
My ******* poke taut in the cool, still air
Copper tumbles onto your shoulder as I sit beside
Tilt my head, and lay to rest

The sunlight glances and polishes your halo
Your dark gaze watches out of the window
Dust motes illuminate, suspended around your face;
I fancy that it's fairy-magic
Although you're not the hero of some story - but, maybe mine?
With the roll in your caress that's passed to my palm

I stare into the little gilded world with you
Stealing a little glance at your bare chest,
The elastic of your boxers clinging over tight hips -
Just need to remind myself that it's real
Picture perfect, but this perfection is real
Take the roach to my lips
Take a minute to appreciate this
Inhale, exhale
This moment is infinite

The smoke twists away slowly
My mind's eye sees how beautiful it would be
In gentle-focus monochrome...
Then, I let the notion go
I act so naturally, but in my head I know
This next motion is picture-perfect

My white fingers are slim
Hand not quite steady; I tremble from our workout
Not moving from your shoulder,
I reach around the cocked neck of your guitar:
Just relax, and let time slow
Hear the peaceful tune flow from your skilled hand
I press the roll to your mouth
The crackle of burning embers dances with the string notes
Smoke streams out as I lift it away
And there -

In that split second as I begin to move,
There the Polaroid would have clicked and immobilised;
This moment so high in too hot a day
Picture perfect in my mind's blue eyes