Love hangs out alone in the rain beside a lamppost, tulips drooping in his hands.
Then suddenly she appears, glances at his dripping eyebrows, refuses the outstretched bouquet, and bestows a quick kiss before dashing into the house.

And soaked to the bone, Love grins in victory, presses wet flowers to his heart, and begins his return home.

- "Matters of the Heart", Johann Nichy Fiergen