I don’t know you—save for my biased observations
From the past three or so years—
Three or so years because I have always been watching,
And biased because you have always been perfect—
You don’t know me—save for a casual glance here
And a few casual words exchanged there
When your path finally strayed in my direction
And our eyes locked at last—a meeting that could only have been planned
By Fate itself.
It lasted for minutes, but I swore it went by in a second—
Mere minutes it lasted—I managed to stretch it out for days—
Days flew by and I hoped for more—more of you—
Fanciful scenarios condensed themselves into sideways glimpses—
Now it’s been weeks.
I don’t know you, and you don’t know me,
But I say we lay down under the stars and stare up at the moon
And whisper about just how ignorant we are of one another—
When, really, what we know is all we need—
You and I.