A man sees a woman as if she were a caryatid—a stone figure—melting into the blue sky behind her, almost not human. As he comes closer, she bends down and breaks that statue-like image. When he passes, she raises her head and blows a smile at him, light as a feather. He catches it on his lips and blows it back. In that small exchange, the speaker says, they loved—even though she is waiting for another lover and he is walking on to his own love.
The mood is suspended and wistful: a brief, wordless meeting that feels real but costs nothing and changes nothing. Love here is not possession or lasting commitment, just a shared breath of attention, fragile and quickly gone.