(Read Caption) To the one, who is with you right now. I wanted to tell you, please take care of him. I wish, I could ask him for one last time, how he has been doing? He never answered to me, but left a question mark instead, why I am even asking it. But still, if I am ever going to meet him, I am going to ask the same, till then you ask him. He is a man of his words, so whenever he insists on writing a poem for you, let him write, for you never know when his muse will leave him and never come back. There was no moonlight one night, I remember and he said, "there are blue streetlights shining on a faded fantasy of mine and the muse is sitting on my window sill, watching outside, the solitude and poetry walking hand in hand, so do you want to see how the moon looks from my window?" I said, "No. Though there is no moon tonight but the longing to see the stars together is letting me look at the sky often, and pray for them". I wish I had let you watch me the moon from your eyes that night because since then, I have been longing to see the stars together. He will make you smile, when he will be your night's armour and will protect you. He will make you laugh, with his copy pasted old remedy. He will make you wait for him, with another lame excuse and then telling you, he was waiting for you too on the other side and then he will tell you another story of calling you someday, from a phone booth at night, when he will get at loss of words. He will find you.
