You always walked past me with a smile at the cafe.
A smile so strong that every time it was for me, I looked down quickly.
I waited for it in the cervices of my longingness for that image of yours
I always wanted to do more than just smile back to you.

But I couldn't.

I always saw you when you had already seen me.
You waited for me to look at you and then you smiled.
And it was I who was afraid of doing it wrong again this time.

The exchange of smiles was what I was
looking forward to on my Sundays.
I always thought of a brewing conversation with you.
But my brain couldn't answer how would that happen!Even my imagination started from the type of things we can discuss.

Would it be books, art, theatre, movies or is it okay to share what made you a person on the first convo?
Would you mind if I told that I want to know what did you use to see outside the window everytime you sat on the same chair?
How did you manage to keep looking outside without turning over to see the face whose laugh made the whole cafe gawk at?

What thoughts ceased your mind when you were tying your shoelace and then your fingers stayed on laces for another 20seconds?

You always seemed to have the same non readable face except when you smiled
Because when you smiled, you wanted to speak and not think.

Would you still smile when you see me after an year?
I will because I can still smile. Only.