I’m on the train, heading out of town,
passing yards and back gardens
with that unkemptness that would
never be seen on the street side.
And suddenly I think of smiles and
pleasantness; the gracious conversations
we present to people while inside
our opinions are stacked mum.
How, wading through the back gardens,
we might admire the front;
how we live in other heads
having developed in semi-independent ways.
No comments:
Post a Comment