And why can't these walls be pictures of you?

And why can't the air carry your fragrance?

And why can't music be notes of your laughter?

And why can't mirrors be your eyes?

And why can't food taste like your skin?

And why can't every touch be your embrace?

And why can't time be a long drive with you?

And why can't newspapers carry stories of you?

And why can't rains be a shower with you?

And why can't walks be conversations with you?

And why can't the world revolve around you, when mine already does.