Poems

7.

Walking through the streets,
Looking at all the people,
beautiful,
all in their own minds and worlds,
thinking so many different, individual thoughts,
My mind wondering where their minds are,

Are they thinking the same?
Are they thinking about the birds flying away from them?
Are they thinking about the letter they received this morning?

But,
nobody,
but that person,
will ever know it precisely,

And,
isn't it strange how much we can be consumed by our thoughts,
moments,
life,
Maybe even something you did 5 years, 2 months and 27 days ago,
Things that don't necessarily matter,
Every mind works differently,
Yet we somehow proceed to live amongst one another,

Isn't it strange?