It always happens,
when you are not around.

Just like the seasons
they come and go.

Your body entangled in mine,
          your careless whispers singing in my ears.
                    While your touch sending goosebumps,
                                    up and down and my spine.

One day, I will return
to the place where dreams
come alive, in Agua Azul.

A place where if I had
an anchor of a feeling,
I would be a sailboat
on the beach full
of our burning desires.

Where the silver moon
rises in the evening time.
It will be my reward,
during sleepy hours.

She is lovely in the morning
and in the evening time.

When the skies wake,
and when the skies retire.

At 4:45, she is the loveliest,
when the street lights flicker,
and the pavement we from the rain
shines like silver.

While the street lights grow misty in the fog,
and every soul on earth is still asleep.

Little Ophelia Rose is still lonely,
like the early morning
and late night streets.

Your luscious dark lashes,
                  your chocolate eyes,
                                 your dimples imprinted in your cheeks.

Her face is like the cosmos,
and the star-like freckles
that decorate her face are the constellations.