Technicolor Love

Up ahead there are barns.
Fall foliage line the ridges.
A smattering of grass and fields.
The colors, just after the rain, in the golden hour
remind you of a post card from the fifties,
a smidge too bright, too beautiful,
technicolor, and despite the excess,
real.
Not at all unlike
looking at you.

About this poem.

A love poem. Duh. Love poems are the only poems that have only one meaning. Because true love demands full focus. And deserves it.

The picture was taken not far from my house, on a road just outside Salem, NY.

Tom