Between These Two Windows

Between these two windows resides an invisible bridge that could connect our two lonely souls
Each of us filled with our hopes and our ambitions, our doubts, and our fears 
Each of us with unique reasons that find us precisely where we are today   
Perhaps our own amazing stories to share and our own future tales to tell
Two gentle and tender souls tucked away from the rest of the world

Between these two windows are chapters that have yet to be written 
It’s your bright blue eyes, your long blond hair, and the sauntering of your hips that first garnered a glance
But it is your smile, your kindness, and innate warm-hearted nature that has attracted more than just my eyes
And it’s the admirable and enviable empathy that you show towards others that have captivated more than just my stare 
The woman who I scope from afar has me anticipating our chance encounter

Between these two windows and yet another missed opportunity yields to another lonely night
I’m anxious and excited, but I wait with patience 
i’m optimistic and hopeful, but I idle with caution
I wait for that right occasion, the opportunity for our paths cross
Sitting on my hands, shaking my head, waiting for time to run its course

Between these two windows, and I’m already starting to dream
I imagine bumping into each other inadvertently as we turn a corner or open the same door at the same time
I picture our initial conversation…a light joke, some quick wit leading to not so subtle flirting, and unconfined grins 
I imagine our first date, strolling through the neighboring town center amid a perfect spring evening
I picture bottomless cups of coffee and effortless conversations guiding us into the early hours of the following day

Between these two windows is a hollow corridor that could bring together two empty souls
The first snowstorm of the season, trapping us each indoors…alone, we pass the time
Each meal using our desks as a table, our computer monitors as our sole dinner companions
Familiar one-sided conversations with our televisions having become our nighttime rituals 
Dozing in and out of consciousness in our respective recliners, wasting time, our lives passing us by

Between these two windows, I see our similarities manifesting themselves with each passing day
I understand these fears and initial doubts; I’m aware that our expectations might fail our reality
I’m as terrified as i am excited about what I might uncover
I understand that the truths that we might come to discover could ultimately consume us
I know that we could each be left feeling worse off and filled with more mistrust than we ever had before

Between these two windows rest uncovered one thousand burning questions
Perhaps we could become the greatest friend each of us has ever had
Perhaps we could develop into something much more significant than either of us have ever imagined
Perhaps i could evolve into precisely the person that you have long been looking for
Maybe you could grow into the person that i turn to when i need somebody the most 

Between these two windows could lay a path of never-ending path riches
Maybe it is our turn to wonder, to relish peace, to feel joy
Maybe it is the time for us to fall madly in love
Maybe it is our turn to experience all that we have been missing our entire lives
Maybe this is our time to be happy; maybe this is our time

I wrote this poem about a girl who lived in my apartment complex. Our apartments were on opposite sides of the street. Our bedroom windows and our balconies faced each other. She lived on the second floor and I lived on the third. We were similar in many ways. I wanted so badly to meet her, but I never had the courage to talk to her when either of us was out. I'm pretty sure we were about the same age. We were both single. We were both teachers for the same county (we had identical parking passes hanging in our window). I imagined how our lives paralleled each other in so many different ways. When I felt sad or lonely, I imagined her feeling sad or lonely. Night after night after night we'd both spend time alone in our apartments. She was very pretty. When it was nice outside I would often sit on my balcony while reading or writing. She would often sit on her balcony doing something similar. I lacked the confidence to strike up a conversation with her. It felt like each day that passed with another missed moment. Each night aged us. I felt like I had earned or deserved a chance to fall into a situation where I could have a conversation with her.

But that never did happen. After two years, she moved away, and I never saw her again. So maybe sorrow? I choose joy. What I wanted to happen never did, but it helped get me through some lonely times.

Written in 2013

Copyright, The Poetry of Bryan Buser