The evening is mild, yet cold
a man, under a street light,
whistles at the sound of a tune
It is an old song, 
a tune that seems to come
from a distant time.

We do not even know why, but we stop,
all of our thoughts fade.
Those ones we thought we couldn’t delay
those ones that seemed so important, they vanish.

We stop,
we do pretend we are waiting for someone, 
we smile at ourselves, a silly thing to do, but we stop. 
Not a word,  we do smile, secretly stare, and listen.
We stand there and we watch at the scene:
a man’s silhouette, his whistling, 
like kidnapped into a magic carpet: we fly.

Suddenly, for no reason, we do feel small
there is a tear wanting to wet our eyes.
We do feel small, very small
small like those tears, reflecting the streetlights.
Tiny like that we do feel 
and it makes us feel like giants.

His music fades,
a girl approaches the man.
The young man stops whistling,
he stops singing, he smiles.

He takes her hand, 
not a word, 
but a smile and a kiss.
Like voyeurs we see them,
walking away, together.

We stay there, for a little while,
no words are needed. 
We watch the pillar
the place where the man was,
It takes time to get back.

We take our hands to each other’s eyes 
we caress our mutual surfaced tears.

A smile, arise on both you and me
it draws on you like the most beautiful painting

We take each others tear on each others lips,
And we know the evening will be perfect.