when I feel like I know someone or something about someone, because usually, somehow, I do.
People, people everywhere
Walking out in the streets and
As they meet
Will they greet?
Only time will tell,
While in a hustle
Will they tussle
As they try to make
Dues within their designated
Frame of time?
Or chime in step
With stance well kept
As they walk the waltz
To rhythmic musical rhyme?
Do they carry debt?
Do they live in justice
Or in crime?
Do they have mouths to feed
of little children, little unbeknownst
Lives?
All's well that ends well
In a days work at the end of the line,
For these people I see
These people I might meet and greet
I watch them from my window
Closely,
Carefully,
Wondering what lives they may lead
Because I'm not these people
All I can do is sit in silence
Watching flawlessly as I stare
As if somehow I knew these people
In some chance
In another time
In another day
In some way these people
Walking out in the streets
At heart I know what is in stow, for,
These people I would gladly meet
But I cannot
They have not
Nor do they retain memories of me
I know not when we will meet
So I'll wait until I see
Because only time will tell
Of these people I am to meet.
YOU ARE READING
1. Memories, For, When I Am. (Being edited 2024)
PoetryHi we're the Valkyrie System. These are a compilation of events, thoughts, thank yous, and emotions from early life and high school career. Everything is told through poems, unless its letters to someone I used to love. You can believe me, stand wit...
