We pass each other without sharing words
Our eyes stare straight, no glancing to the side
Distracted thoughts have nothing to confide
But not too grand to speak: we are not lords.
We both know grief, the endless pain of loss
But dare not share words to comfort the heart
Old friends that do not know the place to start
And fear echoes of sympathetic dross.
We ponder why the other did not wave
Instead we pass on by and down the street
In our sadness there is no way to greet
This one chance of solace for which we crave
We think we’re brave but we are lost in time
Unable to speak and that is a crime.
© JG Farmer 2013