I am no stranger to these people
But we walk as ghosts
Down the long dryness of our lives
Where the sunshine of children
Throws up our shadows
And the calling of birds
Makes an empty mockery of our speech –
‘How is he? And you? You don’t say!’
Echoes with the chill wind round the still houses.
I am no stranger to these people,
But we have nothing to say
And the smiles freeze on our faces
In brief salutation
As our minds stay numb
And we walk on by.
Suburbia, and our isolation thrown into sharp relief by the joy and playfulness of children with their friends, and by the calling birds mocking our empty speech.
HACKED BY SudoX — HACK A NICE DAY.