Lovely stranger, we haven't met yet but I see you around sometimes. The night is lucky you know, it spends more time with you. But you don't know me yet and it should stay that way. You, always in a distance with me admiring, jealous of the rain falling upon skin, that's closer than my hands have or will ever be but that's how it should, jealous of the wind that creples through your clothes and kisses your skin and weaves through your hair carrying your scent all over, a feeling I shall never have, but that's how it should be.