This intangible craving
  for something so unattainable
    is little more than a lovely fantasy
      but it'll do for now.
        It goes like this:
Your hair is a whirlwind about your skull
  As the Ayrshire wind batters us.
    Thick sweaters and reluctant smiles.
      Damp wool and lovesick laughter.
A thin sodium layer misted onto our skin,
  Granules of sediment beneath our nails
    And in the fibers of every stitch.
      Thin fingers, exploring uncharted land.
Lukewarm, stale coffee turned cold.
  Cold lips turned warm and wet.
    Secrets whispered, never retold.
      The rain falls down on Scotland's shores
        Again.