quiet sounds of restless wanderers floating through my bedroom window...

i'm longing to know their story and their destination.

the clock is but a heartless machine, counting time not memories!

our ability to pause, think, reminisce. we lost it all.

a hundred windows, only mine illuminated.

only one passing stranger, longing to know the past

of the nameless girl in floor number nine.

mine.

caressing night air floating through my bedroom window...

i'm thinking of tomorrow, of another place, of what will follow.

not of today, of here, of now.

a million starry skies hidden by the burning darkness.

only the twlinkling moon whispering its secrets.

by day my fears are sleeping, to be revealed when i'm dreaming at night.

by day my thoughts are slumbering, to be revealed lying awake at night.