Why not a poem? Well, let's give it a try. It will be about love :) I borrowed the title from an O'Henry...

I met her one day…
A woman with ginger hair.
OK. Great! Something else?
Well, I am sure she was pale.
But she was not that old?
No, not at all.
O.K.
Still, I am sure she’s not young anymore…
Her eyes are rather empty, but they say she can see many things.
When she speaks…
She does so rather calmly and with a kind of smile.
She can soothe you, but she’s not even nice.
So she asked me gently:
– Do you like your porridge? I once ate the best in Norvich.
But look at her hands!
They are shaking in a kind of trans.
– Have you ever been there? You must – she said.
Oh! She’s the woman of stories! And she always has a new story to tell:
-I once met an artist there…
– A well-known star?
– Zafar – she replied.
-So what was so special about him or her?
– He was floating on air!
When I thought what an amazing man, and she told me he was very down to earth…
– Well, she said, he did not want to share how to levitate…
Another time she talked to me in rather unexcitedly way…
And her hands were once again in ta kind of trans:
She just grabbed something, threw it, and then threw it away! Oh M’am!
Yesterday I met her again.
She told me another story…, well…
– That’s great!
– Do not interfere…, this is not the end….
I just wanted to add: …while she was fidgeting with the keys in her hand.
I once asked a clever man:
– What was wrong with her hands?
And he replied: „Well, maybe everything is fine”
– He can not be right!
Well, it seems to be a scream!
– Well, he said, maybe her hands represent a dream?
-Does she not believe it and is distress?
-Maybe or maybe she’s smart and does not want it to come true – I guess.
-Shall I meet her tomorrow?
-Well, for what reason morrow?
-I just want to take her hand – I coo.
– Maybe you are a dreamer too???