Stories

often wonder
In my vacuous head
When they pass me by
People on the street

What is in your mind
My dear stranger
What makes you suffer?
What makes you tick?

What would be the stories of yours
As
The day unfolds

What are the stories of the people
Whom you care
Whom you hate
and
Those who do not enter into your head

When I sit on the bench
The windows I see...
At dust
The lights coming through the window pane
With warmth flowing a thousand mile

Family love
I think
The love the joy the agony
with everyone's idiosyncratic dreams
Weaving up a web of care

Then I thought the thousand miles I traversed
In car in bus in train or on the airplane

All the years I could recall...
All the windows and lights me passed through..

All the years I wonder
How grand
How people live their stories