I always wondered what she looked at.
Because she gazed out the window.
At the sky. At the airplanes. Above the tips of trees and buildings.
As if she were running. Away and away.
Along with the birds that flew so freely and the clouds that drifted lazily across the world.
What did she look at?
A world all her own, tucked within the slips of her small smiles. A melody only sweeter because it ceases to exist. Held perfect, in that silence, more beautiful in imagination.
The air held its breath as if the moment itself wanted to stretch and yawn and sit idly next to her.
If only I could catch her. her thoughts. her heart.
If only she would look at me. For I was always looking at her.
