I myself, am not sure who.

But it is there in my mind, a simple siluethe, barely visible from the light around it.

I can smell the gentle fragrance of its vicinity, yet cannot tell you what I smell. I can hear the calming, gentle laughter, yet not hear the tone. Touch the warm hands and not feel the skin.

Is this distance in the past or the future?

If only the light could for a second dim down, I'd know the face of my love. But I fear that if the light disappears, so would the siluethe, defined by it.