Matahari senja | 2

Through the window.

Through the window,

I saw a fine chap held tight to his bouquet of flower,

He waited for his lover for minutes that seemed forever;

And that he dwelled as the time ticked through,

Under the dreads of scorching rays.

Through the window,

I witnessed the lover’s arrival,

He only said something brief, far from concise, and left.

That very night I told my lover the tale I had learnt,

But as soon as I had finished, his fascination drained.

I thought to myself, how bless it is to be the one longed by the chap.