Nostalgic Poem

Morning The rain leaves traces and then the window panes. The first morning coffee fulfills the thought of her. Eye color, hair color and voice. An echo of laughter settled above, the high rocks of sleep, overpowering the smell of coffee. Desire woven with fine threads of tenderness, immersed quietly in hope. You will speak to me gently, my love. And the redness of the varnish and lipstick, like a painter Painting visions of their dreams. She is the source of my happiness and is so sweet, She became the subject of a nostalgic song. And the rain! The rain leaves traces and then the window panes. The first morning coffee fulfills the thought of her. Eye color, hair color and voice. I love her. Also, please don't pretend to be smart Love is when you are happy.