Sometimes I turn to my left and silently stare out of the window. Amongst the wind, amongst the sound of moving traffic, amongst the chirping birds, sometimes I hear you. A little bit of our conversations. A little bit of your smile. A little of your cheer. How clear your heart was! How easily you smiled. How much of your chatter had no baggage. How easy it was for you to dream. How every day, you had something new to look forward to. How every now and then, you had something for me to look forward to. I could though, always look up to you. How there was so much for you to admire around; how much of you for me to admire around. Sometimes, I look at silent spaces and I can feel your shadow. Like you exist, still. In my thoughts, in my letters, may be. Perhaps in my ideas and my actions too. Sometimes I listen to the sound of the wind, because it can’t be that harsh. It can’t be that untrue. Could this really be true. Could it be true that I exist and you don’t? Could love end then. Would you never know where I stand, what I feel? Would I never know how your day is, has been or will be? Will you have another day, somewhere? Will you exist, again? In some other universe? Or will you not? Will you cease forever? Will the door never open? Sometimes I look at the path not taken and wonder where you would be. Sometimes, I wonder, if you still exist. If you do, I wonder if you still smile. That radiant smile. The vibrant chatter. That heart full of love and dreams and that bucket full of wish list. Sometimes I wonder, if you were true, if I were true at all. Sometimes I turn to the left and silently stare, out of the window, into the silence and talk to the shadow.