At 6 o'clock on a Friday, I saw her.
Through the window, blocks away.
To and fro in her wooden swing,
She showered my soul's dry bay.

No care for the world, she sat there
This window blocked half my sight
Though distant, her miniature figure,
Felt cradled in my sight.

The sunset glistens her hazel eyes,
They shine as she parts her hair.
Yet time stood still as I watched her there,
A fleeting dream caught in the air.