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DonFierroPoems
I see you only in certain seasons, like a flower that chooses when to bloom. Only when the year opens that small window, only when time makes room. You move through the streets so lightly, as if the air parts to let you through. Nothing about you asks for attention, but everything points to you. There is this café where you sit outdoors, the corner where the tricycles pass, the seats beside the big blue sea, the place keeps your shadow like glass. You don’t even know what I’m doing. Not staring. Not calling your name. Just standing still for a second longer, fixing you carefully in frame. I take mental pictures. No shutters. No sound. The way your hair falls over your face or the way you stand out in a crowd. I capture the pause before you smile, the second your laughter begins, the soft shift in your shoulders, the calm beneath your skin. Every spot where I’ve seen you becomes something I keep, a map made of moments I replay before sleep. You are gone most days of the year, back to the life you pursue. But the images stay sharp in my mind, until then, see you when I see you.
0
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 4:14 PM UTC
Red-circled months
I see you only in certain seasons, like a flower that chooses when to bloom. Only when the year opens that small window, only when time makes room. You move through the streets so lightly, as if the air parts to let you through. Nothing about you asks for attention, but everything points to you. There is this café where you sit outdoors, the corner where the tricycles pass, the seats beside the big blue sea, the place keeps your shadow like glass. You don’t even know what I’m doing. Not staring. Not calling your name. Just standing still for a second longer, fixing you carefully in frame. I take mental pictures. No shutters. No sound. The way your hair falls over your face or the way you stand out in a crowd. I capture the pause before you smile, the second your laughter begins, the soft shift in your shoulders, the calm beneath your skin. Every spot where I’ve seen you becomes something I keep, a map made of moments I replay before sleep. You are gone most days of the year, back to the life you pursue. But the images stay sharp in my mind, until then, see you when I see you.
#UnspokenFeelings #MentalPictures #Love #QuietAdmiration #Holidays
Written by
DonFierro
27
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 4:14 PM UTC
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