I see her there with her nose in a book, is it possibly homework?
She sits alone, she’s focused.
Her clothes are named with popular brands, her shoes nice and clean.
Her hair is light on the top layers, but dark on the bottom.
I don’t see her as the type to study, though looks can be deceiving.
As she reads she glances up occasionally,
Is she checking for people she knows?
I almost envy her solitude.
She is just so peaceful.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket;
A smirk crosses her face as her fingers quickly reply.
I wonder who she’s texting.
She can’t be much younger than me, well, could she be older?
I question if she can feel my eyes on her and is choosing to ignore it,
Or whether she just doesn’t notice or care.
Her fingers run through her hair, sliding it up to a ponytail.
Her phone buzzes again,
Only this time she closes her book and slides it into her back.
She unties her hair, letting it flow down her shoulders again.
Who is she going to meet?
Her coat in hand, and another flip of the hair,
Her eyes meet mine and she’s gone.
Who is this girl I see?