maybe

the wings of the plane,

cut across the ground below,

my instinct is to scan it,

for my heart to say hello.

my head tilts around,

up and down to every side,

filling the spaces with maybe's

as it nears the end of my ride.

i wonder if you were somewhere beneath me,

if you felt the shadow pass,

if the sky darkened for just a second,

and made your heart beat really fast.

maybe for a just single moment

we got to meet again at last,

so maybe you looked up at me

when the plane flew right past.

maybe it was when you stepped outside,

to take out a bag of trash.

maybe it was when you finished a cigarette,

and looked for a place to leave the ash.

maybe a feeling tugged at you,

pulled your eyes away from the ground.

maybe you have a new dog now,

who barked at the sky with a desperate sound.

maybe a new lover pointed out a bird for you,

but you noticed the plane instead,

and for a single fleeting second,

our paths got to cross once again.

the maybes don’t stop.

they stack and they loop.

but with all the time I had,

I realized the truth:

maybe you didnt look up,

maybe you stayed looking down.

maybe the sky was just the sky that day,

nothing new in your old town.

maybe you stepped outside

only a minute for it to be too late.

maybe you quit smoking that day,

so that was your only moments fate.

maybe there is no new dog to walk,

nothing to have you to look up towards the view.

maybe you just noticed the bird,

because it was much more important to you.

maybe i was up too high,

or

your mind was preoccupied

or

the time just wasn't right,

so we didn't align. 

maybe.