My First Impression Would Be

You walked in,

and silence moved first.

My mind painted stories,

faster than your words could breathe.

I thought I knew you —

your calm, your smile,

your careful voice.

But impressions

are mirrors with fog.

They shimmer,

then vanish.

Maybe I judged the shadow,

not the soul behind it.

Maybe your laughter

hid a trembling truth.

Maybe my gaze

was too proud to listen.

Time unfolded,

soft and slow,

like dawn forgiving the night.

I saw the real you —

unmasked, unguarded,

human.

My first impression

would be wrong,

but beautifully so.

Because sometimes,

what we misjudge

becomes what we most understand.

***