A study of the day's faces.
Hours of fascination spring from
The infinite variety of creation.
What is it that holds these individuals in my mind?
The contours of an eye-socket?
A fleck of dark in an iris?
Oh, I might remain tangled in those eyelashes forever.
There are flashes of familiarity when he smiles,
Or she laughs,
But I've never seen them before.
Some leap from a blurred crowd;
An individual passed on the stairs,
Or glimpsed across a packed floor.
Do they ever notice me in return,
Cataloguing my image for later,
Mulling over the mystery of my appearance
Even as I consider theirs?
With every face I absorb a life,
It intertwines with my own before I know it.
Even though I may never see them again
Or know them if I do.