Walked under her roof many a times
And stopped at the same spot every time,
Maybe for a second or an hour
But stopped, I have
Pulled by its shapes and colors.
The triangles with skewed angles;
The square that was but for the incline;
The Pentagon with a corner amidst its edge
But mistake it not for a hexagon.
It was all in the spot.
The black and the white
The light and its lack
Or was it the other way?
They bend and curve
And twist and slide
An intricate game they play
You'll be privy if lucky.
It was all in the spot.
Here's a secret,
No spilling it.
Look past the dazing whites
And listen with ears up.
You can hear the muffled howls
Or the percipient giggles,
See the contorted faces
Or the grins short of grimaces.
As the keen pairs of eyes from all the years
Stare deep into you, do not flee.
For it is all in the spot,
The spots on the roof
The spot on the floor.

Years later I will remember your name
And all the sweet things
And wonder what could have changed
Between two strangers

Trudging through the seconds
With my shoulders slumped,
I leave footprints behind
For the rampant wind
To consume all traces.

I see faces
Some in despair
Some in exasperation
Faces Like mine
Scrunching into the distant
For something other than sand

Had I closed my eyes
And straightened the frown
I'd have seen shimmering stars
Stretching to infinity,
The glowing moon
And its concave smile,
Fierce orange and serene blue
etching the legacy of hope
Into all the lost souls.

They are waiting.
Maybe I will.