How do I know you are there?
How do I find you?
I hear voices, and I imagine your silhouette against my window sill,
I smell a wisp of your lavish laugh and I close my heart and seal it inside.
But, how do I know?
If you don’t press your hands against mine,
When I hesitate before the traffic;
If we don’t spit water on each other in the shower;
If you don’t blow on my face your morning breathe;
If we don’t look at the stars and
If we don’t have silent conversations holding hands.
My girl, how do I know?
Petrichor 