The drizzles, upon our skin, akin to
Crystalline dews streaming down
The window pane. Plane as it is,
Except for some stories told over

A cup of coffee, we remained strangers
In a strange midnight, nameless,
Faceless crowd of aloness. But the
Stolen gaze is a thousand words,

Unspoken yet understood, unheard
Humming in solitude. So we stood in
Silence for there is no better name
For all there is in this moment but

Midnight sun.

Just lend me another cup of creamer
And caffeine, for I have forgotten the
Art of remembering, for all there is has
Become a poetry of your presence.