The Window

We stood like two statues near the window, your hands carefully holding my waist
Raindrops touched the tormented pavement, following those same cracks they always traced
As we watched a cat climbing cars and faces full of misinterpretation
We smiled and read each other's thoughts, our usual way of communication
The back of my pale neck sensed the shadow of your hair
I could imagine us in a million light years, still standing over there
The very moment resembled breathing: natural, eternal and complete
Earth seemed to fade at the horizon and begin right at our feet
Then I slowly turned my head and whispered three questions in your ear
"What are you doing on this human-inhabited planet then, my dear?
Why does time seem to chase us more and more each hour?
And will the cardboard birdhouse survive this heavy shower?"

Fingers entwined, eyes fixed on the watercolour sky,
like a softly shimmering statue near a window -
I listened to your reply.