I’m called to stand on my doorstep, I’m almost outside.

I need to feel the cold air bite my skin, the wind whip my hair, the rain brush the pavements as I feel my way to you.

There’s something about the blackout of early evening, something pulling at me to leave the house, escape the four walls that surround me.

And the rain shines the pavements as I puddle jump, rushing, a sense of hurrying to find you.

I’m wrapped up in red fleece, blown to kingdom come but I still know where I’m going.

The tall trees beyond my house twist and yearn like they know, like they truly understand despite the storm. I stand in the cold, hugging my earl grey. I crave this weather.

And if I’m still and listen, if I stop and feel then it’s almost as though there’s nothing inbetween us, no distance, no space and no time.

I shove my hands deep in my pockets, things rustle, like gifts, like precious moments to come. I hold tight to their promise.

Street lights, shop lights break the black, dazzle in the darkness, reflect up at me as I splash towards you. People blur, irrelevant.

And then later I’m there, shimmering, sparkling at your side.