Always in the corner,
little eye contact when entering,
there’s always that single moment.
A look, glance, gesture brings them close to God.
At least they would suggest
their motive is always
I wonder what it is drives their soul,
safely tucked away,
in the corner,
where notions bounce nearby,
without ever leaving their side,
a supportive melancholy.
At least that is familiar,
always the same two
If we silently stroll past,
perhaps they’ll go away,
or instead we figure out a way,
to just get by,
Tomorrow, try not to think about them,
until we actually see them,
in … sight – mind.