Therapeutic Stories

A Thin Line

I sometimes see people

Out of the corner of my eye

Playing and dancing

Walking along the roadside

Smiling or hunched

Happy or sad

I wonder who they are

Perhaps they're robbers

Or from a foreign land

Maybe they once knew the stray cats we feed

They could be grand artists with passion

But whenever I look a second time

The image is gone

And I continue on and forget

The people I see with the corner of my eye

Because the last time I looked up someone that I saw

I couldn't find a single clue

Until out of the corner of my eye

I saw she was dead