It was like turning a page in my favourite book,
Or watching the sunset on a late August evening.
It was like a frequent flyer being airborne,
Or touching down again.
It was like pulling the curtains apart,
Or cracking the window open after a rainstorm.
Meeting you felt like coming home.
And like the first rays of sunrise,
Or a neon light sign in the night time,
Like the first spark from a lighter,
Or the first glow of a candle,
Like the colours of a rainbow after rain,
Or the street lights at the end of the day,