There is not a soul I would like to talk to, at this moment, but you.
I feel there is so much inside that I wish to share, only with you.
Yet I don't know what it is, that I wish to talk with you.

The street lights are bright and near, as are so many well-meaning good friends.
Yet it is that distant, aloof moon, hidden behind clouds, that holds charm for me.
Who else is that moon for me, but you.