It's night. Yes, definitely night.

But there’s a moon. So you can find your way around without switching on the lights. There are no lights because I have switched them all off. You’ve just drifted off to a light sleep. I look at you for a while, the way I know you look at me. And I kiss you lightly, mostly because you look so beautiful and I can’t resist. It is such a magical night, and I feel an urge to get up and take a walk around the house. I want to carry your warmth with me, so I wrap my arms around myself, and miss you while you are right there, sleeping, dreaming.

I go downstairs, padding softly down. It’s a strange feeling; I don’t want to wake you but half wish you would wake on your own. It’s not very late but it’s quiet outside. It’s a night for quiet love, the kind that can be made with the eyes. It’s a little warm and the air is heavy. The thunder rolls just as I am hit with the fragrance of wet earth. I know it will rain soon, and I can’t believe my luck. I close my eyes and take a sip of last evening. You looked so beautiful, and I thought I couldn’t take it anymore. A strange love, ours – words missing, yet inadequate.

The wine’s gone a bit flat but it doesn’t matter. I take a sip and look out through the French windows. The moonlight glances off the leaves, and just as I begin to wonder why they are called French windows, it begins to rain. It’s not a downpour, and it’s not the sheets of fine droplets that seem to reluctantly float to the ground, but it is that kind of rain where the droplets are just big enough to be able to see each individual one. The familiar pitter patter begins, and I am enchanted.

A streak of lightning runs across the sky in the distance and the thunder rolls in. I close my eyes for a moment and somehow know you’ve woken up. You look for me but don’t worry when you don’t see me, because you look at the night through the curtains and you know exactly where I am and what I am doing. I know are too lazy to dress now, so you will just wrap the expensive satin sheets around you, and drag them along the floor behind you. You know I will say nothing on a night such as this.

Now you will pad softly down the stairs, and bend down to see where I am. You will see me leaning against the wall, glass in hand, looking outside. Then you will try and gather the sheets behind you but your small hands will not be able to. You will sigh and give up. I open my eyes and smile, because I know exactly what you will do next as well. You will walk down the stairs with your effortless grace and you will glide across the smooth black tiles, the sheets making no noise. You will stop in your stride and shiver, enjoying the cold floor under your bare feet. On your way over to me, you will bend over slightly and pick up the other long-stemmed glass from the coffee table. Your hair will fall over the side of your face, and you will flick it back with a gentle toss of your head, in the way I adore. You will look over at me still facing the outside, and smile as you come closer.

And I would have already felt your touch, before you put your arm around my waist, lay your head between my shoulder blades, and press me to you.

And it will rain till dawn.