"Hi." You smiled at me as

your fingertips traced the

edges of the notepad in

your hand.

The pale green leaves

shivered above our heads

as the wind blew through

them softly.

"I'm Azura," you chuckled,

"you probably guessed it,

yes, it does mean blue."

Your eyes fluttered at

the little child running

after their balloon which

flew up to the sky covered

in specks of white cotton

balls.

"Blue sky, actually,

I think it's French."

The little kid's fingertips

caressed the ribbon dangling

by the balloon, only to have

it slip away.

"What is your name?"

And all I did was walk

away. Pathetic, right?