But how can one be so fond of a person they barely know?
It baffles, and yet is the current predicament.
Tunnel vision, with a destination seemingly feasible, but reach is in question.
The fear of it being an illusion, a mirage,
only heightens the sensation.
Is it imagination that recklessly steers us on this path?
The pondering of matching voice to face.
The contemplation of whether her curls carry the aroma of Pantene or Herbal.
(or maybe even a spritz or hold)
The wonder of how her palm sizes up to mine,
hand in hand, fingers intertwined.
The musing on typical dinner and a movie date— dapper me and her in all her glamour—
or something else entirely, cherished forever:
an icebreaking commute to a remote location
to hike up to an elaborate picnic
where we discuss nature in all her glory,
art in all its faces and forms;
childhoods and how our Timelines have slanted slightly,
incomprehensibly bringing two parallel lines to an intersection.
A plausible outcome? Wishful thinking?
The sun dial shifts, only time will tell.