Silhouette

Its through foliages and flowers that she saw him
Often obscured and vague
He appeared
He was her poetry
The ink in her quill
And the reason of her smile
'Her world' she called him
She hid behind trees
Just to see his silhouette
Unclear, yet her favourite
She was too familiar with it
that she needn't see him, to see him
His portrait was etched within
And she carried it along every single day
All those little details, she painted them well in her heart
The details that even he failed to notice
Those greying hair
That little wrinkle
And the glimmer in those eyes
That appeared only when he laughed
He was her poetry
And she, just another girl in the crowd for him...