A/N: done for an English assignment last year, inspired by a beautiful little painting that i bought for something close to 12 euros in France a couple summers ago.

Passers-by

Every day,
I watch them pass.
They go
By foot,
By bike,
By car.
I watch them as they
Love,
Hate,
Cry,
And laugh.

Some walk with their
Head down,
Shoulders hunched forward,
At a brisk pace,
Warding off the bright colors
So perhaps they won’t notice
The dull,
Drabness of their office.

Some walk slower,
Watching everything around them,
Perhaps eating a pastry,
Or some fruit.
They walk alone,
Reveling in the solitude,
Letting everything flow by.

Some skip by,
Towing on someone’s hand,
Determined to go faster,
Get there sooner,
Despite the something
Smeared across their face,
Or spilt on their coat,
Or stuck in their hair.

Some walk in rambunctious groups,
Some walk in solitary multitudes.

Some wear
Red-Orange-Pink-Green-Blue:
A happy phantasmagoria
Of color and patterns.
Others wear
Grey-Brown-White-Black
To suit their moods,
It seems.

All go by.
All with a destination,
Whether or not they’ve decided

Where
It will be.

All so different,
But all so the same.

All live.
All feel.
All pass.

All are passers-by.