Thursday, June 14, 2007

Untold

For My Muse.

A good kind of intense…this is something I did not know existed.

He fell in love with her, watching her through her window. He fell in love with her, watching her. Watching her sleep, watching her move around in her room, watching her seated on her bed tears running down her cheeks listening to music on her Discman, an ear plug in her ear. He fell in love with her watching her. He fell in love with her watching her through her window.

He fell in love with her in the morning looking through her window on his ladder that looked down into her room. He fell in love with her watching her. He fell in love with her watching her in the morning before she woke up, when he had been awake two hours already and this was his second job of the day, white paint splattered tattered trousers, torn at the back and the zip missing, painting her father’s house. He fell in love with her watching her in the morning.

He fell in love with the way she used to sleep in the morning before she woke up. He fell in love with the way how she slept with her left arm under her head, her right cheek buried in her pink pillow, concentrated look on her face like she was puzzling over a math’s problem in her face. He fell in love with her watching her sleep in the morning his ladder over her window smiling when she smiled her little sleep in her sleep before she moaned a little like she wanted to turn and face the other way but she never would. He fell in love with her watching her sleep in the morning. He fell in love with her.

He fell in love with her watching her, watching her in the morning, get up, watching her morning routine. He fell in love with her watching her get out of bed, eyes still closed, yawning loudly, fist balled in front of her mouth, her feet searching for her bathroom sandals she always put at the foot of her bed, never opening her eyes, knowing they were their, they would always be. He fell in love with her, watching her in the morning. He fell in love with her watching her get up in the morning. He fell in love with her.

He fell in love with her in the morning, the girl crying in the morning in her room who never cried downstairs, the baby in a family of six who sat on her Daddy’s lap and stopped him from reading the morning papers with a furrowed concentration to eat something before he left for work in a country falling apart and he was trying to save. He fell in love with her in the morning watching her through her window getting up, playing her music, dancing all by herself before she would go down, ready. He fell in love with her watching her in the morning through her window.

He fell in love with her. He was the painter and she was the boss’s baby daughter. He fell in love with her watching her through her window in the morning.

9 comments:

Duksey said...

firties!!!,gotacha mr magoo.
The poetic flow is making me get dreamy...

The 27th Comrade said...

Way I check it, this is some shamba boy risking his life ...

Cleverly-hidden is the scene of watching her dance ...

Savage said...

Duksey you don't what you are getting yourself into. I run this whole firsties thingy.

iwaya who is your muse? I promise not to tell.

Zack said...

You got a nose for smelling this kinda fing out...but is it always love you sure?

ish said...

you've confirmed a suspiscion i've always held. men fall easy, i saw her i loved her. while women fall hard, i saw him, we talked, i discussed it with my closest friends, we talked some more, i let him touch me, and then i loved him.

Cheri said...

See what Baz has done to us with this lolcats thing???

Tandra said...

ok, now thats just freaky..window watching?? u myt fall n die, imagine that? Love dont bring people back, not really...

Elle B said...

He fell in love with her, he shouldn't be up on that ladder. By the way I get this poem; It is about a stalker and Iwaya is in his head. Wamma, aren't I on track?

scotchbiscuits said...

yes, they do Ish. apparently they fall in love just like that. and out in the same instant manner? or is a front?