A gentle voice to cut through nascent wails
A tender hug to quiet and to love
A guiding hand to give a needed shove

Threads of people winding by each other, clumping and then seamlessly slipping past.
I try to blend in but I feel like I’m too slow or too fast.
My skills at reading crowds are on the lower side.
Yet I love being in crowds, amongst so many you can hide.

People running everywhere, and I’ve nowhere to go
But that’s fine with me if these are people I don’t know
Their eyes slipping right past me, neither towards or away,
They simply disregard me, nothing warrants naught to say.

This is how I want it, yet I can’t help feeling that
It’s hard sometimes to be the one that everyone forgets
I don’t want that at all, now that I think about it more
For how could they forget me if they’d not seen me before?

She came one morn in a pool of red, rising in the east
And she left that day in a pool of red, west-bound, daylight’s priest
So I looked upon her cooler side that lay on sheets of black
Waiting for her graceful form to usher daylight back.