I met you on a cold,
stormy day,
in autumn.
The streets were empty,
and there was no one in the library
except you, me,
and the old books on the shelves.
The room was warm and silent,
and the pouring rain
seemed to create a barrier
between us and the world.
You were sitting right in front of me,
with your dreamy eyes
and your shy smile.
And there was nothing
in the library
except the silence,
the storm,
and the loud beating
of our hearts.