The moment when you feel like calling her so badly,
just to hear the familiar sound of her voice,
and you can hear her smoke her cigarette,
and picture every step, every detail,
her favorite lamp, the fan humming in the background,
the sound of traffic...
from the moment she takes a puff and how she exhales,
and every mannerism which you find both mildly amusing
and are enamored by.
That moment is now, and it's fleeting, and passing,
and it'll be gone soon,
and I can't do anything... but smile;
That I had precious, previous moments, with her.
Good night.
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