The Sunday Scribblings Prompt for this week is "The End" I actually wrote this a few weeks ago, but just found it tonight again, and it fit perfectly, so I thought I would share it here.
Two Worlds
He watches in the background
Taking in the action
But never taking part
He absorbs the details
Stores them for later review
And never participates
There is a certain beauty
In the way his eyes scan the crowd
Focus momentarily on this thing
Or that
There is a special mystery
Hidden within that reserve
As if he knows something
The rest of us are oblivious to
He smiles periodically
When something strikes his fancy
And frowns almost instantly
As if he remembers himself
And now and again, he grins
And almost winks in my direction
As if he knows I watch him
Watch us
We play a game of sorts
Pretending not to see
That I’m as aware of him
As he appears to be of me
I follow his gaze
To different focus areas
And watch through his eyes
The world I inhabit daily
The train reaches the station, the doors open
I step inside
He takes the random dollar bills and pocket change
From inside his guitar case, places his guitar inside and closes it
He stands to leave, looks straight at me
And bows.
The show is over.
Copyright 2007 - Karina
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7 comments:
Brilliant. I love this.
That feeling when we avoid a stranger all the being aware of him is something we ll face. But how many of us can describe it?
Your post does that and more. One very good read.
I like this, there's a certain mystery in the exact relationship between the people described.
Very nicely done. I like the amount of thought you put into this and the descriptions you use make him a very visual character, and a bit mysterious.
I was pulled in very quickly.
Nicely done,
~Saoirse
That had a twisty ending! I especially liked:
"places his guitar inside and
closes it
He stands to leave, looks straight at me
And bows.
The show is over."
I thought it was a nameless flirtation until I got to the train, then I thought it was a regular passenger flirtation, then I discover the busker. Still a flirtation, though, isn't it?
I liked this poem very much. The story you wove so intricately well.
How often do we play similar games with people around us? Really enjoyed this.
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