Life stops for no one

THAT girl in the corridor, that girl in torn jeans and blue jumper who flashes a smile and moves away: what does she know of me?

That girl in the front row, that girl with her hair piled all high who scribbles down every word I say: what does she know of me?  

That girl at the door, that girl in a skirt too short for this winter day who mutters an apology as she walks in late: what does she know of me?

They know nothing of me. I know nothing of them.

They could tell me tales that would make me weep. I could tell them my brother died today.

If we did, perhaps we would look at each other for a second and say an awkward sorry before we went back to what we were.

He dies, you die, I die; life stops for no one.

Life stops only for the one who died.


1 Comment

  1. Verla Demianczyk · January 18, 2011

    Have your thought of including some social bookmark buttons to your web site site? At the very least add one for Digg so we can digg you up!

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