It's too early for the sun to set / but too low to be deemed the afternoon / At this time I'm overwhelmed by an undeniable surge of love / Crafted only for my friends who are out of my reach / Still I keep an eye out / From my resting place on the windowsill / just in case I happen to see them outside / To ensure that we never cross paths without knowing it / So I can run down the stairs and out the front door / their clothes memorized in case I lose them during my sprint / So I can track them down the sidewalk / Running as fast as halfway worn shoes can travel / And say every thought I vowed to tell them in person

Although I suppose it's unlikely that will ever see them again / My friends halfway across the country / all in opposite directions / It's an idea my parents reinforced into my brain once we began moving / I'd counter their statements / and they'd give me the same look all adults give when you're small and optimistic / My parents probably wanted me to lose part of my childhood naivety / Be a little more realistic so I wouldn't get my hopes up / Though my hopes have been a bit of a drag since they've told me

In the crevices of my sticky white windowsill / I find myself playing with childish ideas / Ideas my parents would try to ground / Their eyes / Their smile / The way they clench their teeth together / How the skin folds around the movement of their eyebrows / I can see the look in my head without trying / There's a despicable taste of shame on my tongue / when I tell my friends I'll see them again one day / I have yet to know if I'm lying / There's the very real possibility I am able to see my friends again / but I wouldn't be surprised if I spend my days waiting in the windowsill for ghosts who have passed on to another world.