Your planet or mine.
Your hair sways with the wind,
to gently cover your face.
As you step down from the Spaceship,
the headlights blind my eyes.
May be its just your aura, shining too brightly.
Every billboard spells out your name,
long haired painters line up to sing songs of your joy.
You know lesser about me, than they do about you.
Moments of silence, perfectly placed, tease me slightly.
I want more.
You say “6 7 4” as you run your fingers through my hair.
I don’t know what you mean.
They are right.
I’m the alien here.
I can never see clearly, even when you speak.
You take your place among the stars.
As I fly around, in search of a different day.
© Copyright 2010 streetajay (UN: ajaytawde at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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