Faces
Faces
Faces we see once,
That we’ll never see
Again. On a train,
In a street market.
How do we go on
So casually,
Knowing that
That was
The last time?
Maybe it is
A very old man’s.
He’ll die soon,
We think. Or
Maybe it is
A little girl’s.
You think how
She’ll survive you.
It doesn’t matter.
Old or young.
Beautiful or ugly.
Notice how, when
You see a new face,
You accept it.
Unimaginable before,
You say to yourself,
“Of course, this one.”
Your face too.
Countless many
Have looked at you
For the last time
And gone on living.
They’ve forgotten
Your face
And you theirs.
This is what you share.