i breathed upon your sleeping face,
coming through your windows
to stir you awake at the violet of dawn,
i could not help being around you,
as you go around your morning tasks,
i enjoy playing with your hair,
tossing it so you would notice,
until in consternation you tie
a bonnet and a sash around your head;
you take a break and a seat under the shade;
i notice you would always bring out a piece of cloth
to wipe the sweat and tiredness from your face,
and i am there before you know it,
cooling you from the heat of sun,
breathing back refreshment to your eyes,
and seeing you smile is my compensation.
twilight, and afternoons;
always you take the setting of the sun
as if a personal reproach,
the sombreness would wrap a shroud of silence
that you cloak, and sometimes, you even offer
an oblation of tears;
i would try to blow you a kiss,
and whisper of the beauty of stars
to bring you out of your melancholy,
until you do look up and sigh,
and i see you have accepted
that the night has come but will not stay.
sometimes, you would even notice me,
and you would call me various names–
breeze, wind, or sessery, or gale,
as if such terms were necessary,
but really,
i am simply who i am,
nameless and faceless,
taken for granted in the noise of your life.
so i will breathe a last caress
upon the linens of your sleep,
and you would not notice when i leave,
caught as you would be in your dreams;
as always,
i will not leave a hint
if i must say goodnight.
