Persistant

A warm breeze travels through the trees, a nearly inaudible rustle lost in a world too occupied to stop. And listen. A man walking down a nondescript alley, on his way home, or to work, lost in his head, oblivious to the sights and sounds around him. Had he looked over in that brief moment, he would have seen a young women, alone in a shaded backyard, her head in the direction of that slight sound above her, tears streaming, silently, down her cheeks. But this moment, lost in time, never to be known to the man, to the world. Why had she been crying, was it from the beauty of the world around her, perhaps the memory of a lover long since past, or was it that sound in the sky, that she knew most were not listening to, didn't care to listen to, saddened by this thought, she cried then, alone in her world, alone, yet part of it.