empty eyes he had
staring at me
seeing something or someone else.
I passed him by quietly,
thinking myself unnoticed.
but he did
and I sensed it with a pang of guilt,
a flood of sorrow over the futility.
the years have left their mark on him,
hunched, worn,
listlessness shorn of hope.
no one cared and he knew it.
would I dare risk caring?
could I bear the burden?
it would mean entering his pain,
and forgetting about my own.
and then I recognized that look.
his eyes mirrored my own.
and I could sense him asking
the same questions about me.
19 February 2011 by Glen Alan Woods
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