The Journey

The Journey

We sit around in social silence,
But still our thoughts are plural.
The world rushes by,
In the blink of an eye,
Close both and wish us faster.

The pigeons fly along beside,
But soon turn off with boredom.
Now mothers gone,
With children three,
while the rest of us are mortal.

The new lovers stare at the murky bleak,
And thunder meets their gaze.
A babe does cry,
At the cherry-bomb sky,
While the tracks come to an end.

A bustle of hosts,
Around with their guests.
A stoney stair,
Will i meet him there?
As my thoughts stray far from normal.