Hello.
Hi.
How are you?
Fine, and yourself?
Good. Why don't we go for a walk?
Sure, I'd like that.
I knew you would.

The sun was cutting flat. He realized that she was not properly dressed for the autumn night and took his jacket off and supine it around her torso. She looks up into his eyes and saw the tenderness in it.

A poem to creativity

I have been going through
application of appointments
to keep on looking
forward to have a meet with
you.

The sun
has been in my eyes for quite
some time but I don't mind knowing you'll be layering.
Clever rhymes and lines haven't been around,
and the pound of tantrum
detergent me from
what I want to say: apologetic
empty stares we share.

My beings are taken, mistaken, stolen
from me. I can't remember
what is what used to be.
I thought I saw your naked form: your curves, heat, emotions -
Couldn't have got it right though, seems
that I've forgotten my
thinking cap.

Don't worry honey, I'll return shortly.
Don't take it so personal that
the time has gotten to you; wished winter was here.
I know we'll meet again someday. Until then,
with the memory of your soft touch that you've shown me
I'll look for you by the death balloon.