I sat there, looking out of the window

I sat there, looking out of the window.

My head leaning against the wall

The glass pane stretching from the corner of my eye to meet the length of the door, 4 metres away.

Without any effort,

I could see the tops of trees,

Greens of different shades –

Sap, emerald, viridian and olive

Swaying to the song of the gentle breeze.

I couldn’t hear the rustle but I could see the dance,

Feeling like the deaf lad at a performance until

The sound of a blaring car horn

Shifted my gaze to the street beneath.

You could feel the Saturday morning,

No one had to be anywhere by 9,

And no one had to pack lunches before 8.

There were just a couple of cars whizzing past

And an impatient bus driver following behind,

A man on a vintage scooter calmly riding on the wrong side,

A 20-something swiping through his phone while walking on the cemented footpath

Shop shutters were going up somewhere,

A black dog lazily roamed around a parked auto,

Two men were sitting on shabby plastic chairs and talking,

I could see one of them was growing bald from the centre

A lady was holding her bag of groceries and walking past,

A bunch of straws had already piled up near the coconut vendor,

Half the day was almost over for some,

While it had just begun for the others.

I sat there, looking out of the window.

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