In the midst of a forest
On a bench
sitting quietly,
are the stranger and I
As the leaves rustle
none of us talk
is it because we are termed 'strangers'
or is it because we're shy?
I open my mouth, shut it quickly
remembering what my mother said
don't talk to strangers,
they might not be your ally
I fight down the urge to talk
keeping my mother's words in mind
a stranger might be fake
a stranger might be a lie
But would a stranger still be a stranger
if we ever spoke?
if not then why don't we ever talk?
as I think about this
we sit quietly
the stranger and I
"would people remain strangers if they spoke... if not then why don't they speak?"
