It's in everyone's faces
Where they're going.

The guy on the right
Eager to get home
Having watched television all night
Waiting someone to come.

The lady in front of me
All dressed for (I suppose) a new job,
That smile of excitement,
Getting used to the daily path.

The fresh eyes, certainly a tourist,
All is perceived by him,
Little things that are missed
By millions of people passing
Thousands of times through them.

The old lady, slow in her walk,
For sure fast in her mind,
Respected by most,
Invisible to some,
Carry few expressions above her wrinkles.
But her determination suggests
A recounter, a strong need
To put order to something
Long neglected:
A supermarket, helping a son,
Working extra time, a visit.

There's a guy reading
Any important book,
Hoping to come to be
An important person
(Isn't he?)

I might be wrong in all of it,
But for sure I receive those exact signals
I believe I'm receiving.