He sat there, eyes
closed, legs crossed, breathing.
I was standing,
looking at him, breathing.
He looked peaceful.
Unaware. Or maybe extremely focused.
I stood there,
listening to the kettle boil, coffee mug in hand, looking at him.
A slight smile blossomed
on his face: upturned lips and crinkled, closed eyes.
I looked on.
Looked into his
routine, into his life.
I poured the boiling
water into my mug, added in a splash of milk and gave it a stir.
I looked up.
He stirred.
A light turned on
behind him.
Someone appeared.
His eyes opened -
I was still looking when his eyes
penetrated mine.
I blushed.
I had been observing
this man's meditation.
I had looked in on his
morning routine, while enjoying my own.
Had someone else been
observing me, I questioned.
I glanced around at
the other windows of the squared apartment complex -
empty.
