Silhouette

There’s this girl I knew.

From yesteryears.

 

Wheatish skin. A clear face.

Just past her teens.

Black rimmed glasses. Round. Or square.

Hair tied in a ponytail.

In shirts and jeans.

At times a bouquet in summer frocks.

Hoops on ears, watch on the wrist,

A book in hand

Just by herself

In libraries,

Beside the lake,

Walking boulevards

I knew her well.

 

You told me once

They don’t exist

This girl I knew,

And Howard Roark.

You told me once

Of realities ;

And asked for me.

 

But she was so real...

In the evening tram

At a single seat

Touching streetlights with her dreaming eyes ;

In the balcony

On tempest nights

Painting rainscapes on a greyscale sky ;

On the rooftop tank

Lying with a friend

Stargazing constellations of her mind ;

She is so real

Even this day,

This girl I knew…
But never met.