I looked out the window one day
But the day did not look back at me.
I saw a tiny bird come down
And pick up a twine of twig.
I saw a rose petal falling to the ground
As delicate as the stillness of a shallow pond reflecting a passing cloud.
The day was dim like me
Though all else was complacent
Just then though it almost looked back at me
But just looked back again,
And knew I could give no more than I could live.