Where people yearn,
- Wait in longing -
There is never
Quiet or rest.
The bustle and noise is haunting.
Pale, pale faces
Tired, long and daunting.
Listening to too many false voices.
I feel myself adrift.
They walk and talk,
They live in the suspense
Of the unchanging hour.
And the features blend,
The trapped air is shared in gasps.
And the tears flow,
And arms let loose their embrace.
And loneliness is accepted with reluctance,
With hope in the lifeless dreams of better places.
