Tempting fate

You appeared, then swiftly disappeared
Like the butterfly that I was trying to catch in my dreams

I gripped tightly on my net,
And I chased
Determined not to let you go once again

My footstep must have been quick
My heart must have been pounding
I must have ran a little,
With so much innocence, silliness and eagerness
But with, as I discovered later, so much futility

I walked home every evening buoyed by a sense of hopefulness
Hoping that I could relive our love story
A muted love story
Where no words were necessary
Just each other’s presence, just each other’s gaze
And I indulged myself in that heavenly pleasure
Of knowing that you were right behind me…and occasionally peeping over your shoulders
While I did the same, though I quickly looked away, with a blush
Like a shy boy, as my eyes tangled to yours

Is it true that some things were not meant to be?
My hands could have touch yours
But two glass windows came between us
We have never spoken,
I don’t even know your name
Not even where to look for you when I want to
I could have ask,
But my train heads east, while yours were west-bound
Or maybe mine heads north, while yours were south-bound
Really, are some things, not meant to be?

I walked every evening buoyed by a sense of hopefulness
A faint sense of hopefulness, fainter with every passing second
Each footstep was heavy; hopeful, yet heavy
As if tussled by both hope and despair

I was no longer the fast walking guy rushing up the escalators
Let the escalator take me at its pace!
I was no longer the clumsy guy crossing the road while cars dashed past
Let the traffic lights navigate me at its own liking!
I no longer weaved through the maze of crowd
Let the crowd pace me!

I was praying
To whom and to what I don’t know
That the escalator to the traffic light to the crowd would…
Through madness, chaos, disorder, and randomness
Lead me to the impeccable timing, the perfect circumstances
And, to you

Once again I was at our sweet spot
It became all too familiar: a panoramic scan, and then a disappointing conclusion
“Tomorrow”, I whispered to myself
With a hint of resignation
Yet I was doing nothing except wishing, hoping, yearning, praying
To what, to whom, I don’t know.

For you, I am tempting fate