Beautiful Alone

This has been the first for the longest time that we passed near your house.

This same gloomy street reminds me of the first day I heard about you,

I could still feel the same chilling breeze of wind that wraps my whole being and I would be honest,

your memories chase me every time.

-You are one of a kind.

I could still recall how you would run your fingers through your long jet black hair near that misty glass window.

How you would patiently stand there and I don't understand why in the face of all our rackets,

never did you look at us as we were passing by.

No, not even a single smile.

A few months ago,

I moved and started working near your place.

Nothing unusual.

We never talk, not even a simple -Hi!

I am not asking you to notice me (or us)

I don't even want you to know that we look at you from afar.

I by no means want you to discern that I talk about you and stuff.

It's just...

I could clearly picture in my mind,

How you would run your fingers through your long jet black hair and patiently stand there near that misty glass window.

How unnervingly fascinating a simple typical scene can be

if only we could see you. 

But No, not even once, neither near nor far.

-Except for this three-year old girl with a real flair for depicting in spoken words of how beautiful you are.