THE WINDOW & THE BENCH

I remember the drizzle that chilled the bone,
On the bench that froze that evening;
the fingers that held the ice-cream cone
and my silent tongue going numb.

I looked up at the facade of monotony,
to spot her window amidst the clones.
I waved 'hello' to her, while
the empty window kept looking glum.

Then she opened the door and the lights filled in.
And she glanced down her window to find,
the bench, wet from the cold, cold rains,
and not a girl who cared a dime.

Yet she waved to the absent girl on the bench.
Just so she knows she's not ignored.
It's the least she could do for friendship;
and the most adventure I could afford.

And we felt miserable but peaceful in that moment.
We couldn't wave together, but that's fine.
The fun and the sad part is that
We can never be in two places at the same time.