A little shop
A bowl of steaming soup
And a window view of the street
Where visitors hurry by
Sidestepping muddy puddles
Collars turned to the wet and cold.
I sit and sip, blowing when needed
Sip and listen, stealing lives
Cataloging emotions.
A stray word here, there
A head comes up, a furtive look
To recant if necessary, secrets revealed.
Some seem happy
Others sad
A few going through the motions.
Of what is expected
On this stage, at this time
Where the actors, are merely human.
Bill Schatzabel – April 12, 2008
A bowl of steaming soup
And a window view of the street
Where visitors hurry by
Sidestepping muddy puddles
Collars turned to the wet and cold.
I sit and sip, blowing when needed
Sip and listen, stealing lives
Cataloging emotions.
A stray word here, there
A head comes up, a furtive look
To recant if necessary, secrets revealed.
Some seem happy
Others sad
A few going through the motions.
Of what is expected
On this stage, at this time
Where the actors, are merely human.
Bill Schatzabel – April 12, 2008
1 comment:
I like this one, it reminds me of the way my mom always has to poke me to get me to stop people-watching in those cafes.
Anyway, speaking of common interests, we're going to have to go ballroom dancing sometime.
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