Looking at
you,
Looking at
me,
Our lives
worlds apart.
I'd like to
talk to you,
But where do
I start?
We can
exchange "hello" and "thanks",
But it's not
enough.
There's
buying and selling,
But no real
stuff.
What are you
thinking
During our
mutual stare?
Are you
curious or resentful,
Or do you
laugh at my hair?
Indeed, is
your image of the West,
Formed by
scruffy travellers like me?
Mixed with
stories from friends,
And glimpses
of us on TV?
I hand
over the money and wonder,
What stories
you could tell.
Did you
stand up again,
That time
that you fell?
I'm
intrigued about your life,
And what
secrets you behold.
Do you still
feel eighteen,
Or just
weary and old?
I search
your eyes,
To try and
read your soul.
If life is a
play,
Then what is
your role?
Through your
coloured windows,
I detect
strength and beauty.
Humbleness
and resilience,
Such a sense
of duty.
You look
content and at peace,
Though your
life seems harder than mine.
So I think
to myself,
Maybe
ignorance can be fine.
Still, people
are complex,
Who am I to
read your mind?
The key which
unlocks a soul,
Is a lot to
expect to find.
So I smile
at you,
As our eyes
drift away,
And we
return to our own worlds,
Where we
both know what to say.
