Very sensitive you are , When you touch me I become perplexed , when you stealthily come to me and stand behind the door , I feel your fragrance Which makes me dumb , Your curling hairs hug me intemately , But I can’t hold you on my stretching hand , I feel you are very near to me , But very sensitive you’re . I feel your fragrance, but far from you for ever.
You come to me in disguise of storms , At the dead of night , I decorate my tiny house with the colourful flowers , With new clothes I am dressed , Spreading the precious Scent over my dresses , I wait for a long time to welcome you , But you come to me in disguise of storms . I feel your fragrance, And your curling hairs hugging me , But for away from you for ever .
Rudra's Blog 
“And you come to me in disguise of storms.” Love the image! I talk to the wind and commune with its breezes, have stood upon the desert at night and felt its gentle caress.
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