When I stroll in moments of my day,
I remember to look to the horizon…
To glimpse at the glow that has suddenly patched the skies.
She had become a fabric of my days,
And even in the absence of myself, I had kept it so holistically
Glimpsing at it, only in the fractions of every first sight
Like a solar flare, marvelous in the occasion, yet dreadful to the eyes.
As in the sunset, each glimpse was bestowed in a marvel
A relief to the mind, and a stream worth granting my worries.
Her appearance always eclipsed with a smile.
Yet too, it was just a regular occasion
That we recognize only for its indifference
At times a reflection and a backdrop of another day finding its way into the past.
I hold not any memory of those occasions.
Because admittedly, it may have just been a picture that I painted up there for myself
For I am yet to know if all I see are indeed a new marvel
Or had she been as bright
Yet unfamiliar amidst my oblivion
Neither have I engraved on the templates of my heart.
Not to give it a thought, and to end it only in writing.