Thymesia

With her head bowed mournfully to her heart,
a woman stood in the crevasse of her balcony watching

the flood of people in the streets.
Framed by strands of coarse, bleached hair,

the colors they brought with them pushed her
further into her mind.
She could not follow any one of them.

Amongst them,
a face that strayed

from the masses
and into stillness,

Turned up like a child looking at their grown-ups.

Presumably with their lips slightly parted,
and their eyes
lingering.

Of course neither of them could ever know
if their eyes had met,
And the stranger could not have known

that they had been perceived,
but she felt as if
they had reached out
and taken her with the softness of their hand.