From a land far away and above, he watches over me. It’s hard to understand or explain how he does it but when the London birds sing and the Kenyan drums beat like in Dakar, he feels me. When his flights delay, soar high or his favorite record plays, he reminisces of me. And sometimes, in the hour that memories subside, he tells all his secrets to the wind, which in turn travels miles just to whisper into my ear—that he misses me. And when the sun rises, nobody knows but I adore him the more. When the sun sets, it doesn’t matter because he’ll still wake up mad about me. It’s never like it used to be before, I am not shy anymore but different and open, the good-kind. Like a bird grasps daylight, I want to take flight into his world. For there, I am special and safe. And he’s the sightless bird flying above the skies, blind enough to watch over me.