Solitary figures
we wander throughout
this life, moving in
any direction
alone, always, until
chance conversation
spark off flint
an idea
a pronouncement
and the path is crowded
for a time, then
alone again
The secret, perhaps, is
not to lust after
the moment
however only to enjoy
when they happen
and to bask in
the silence
when they don't
for the warmth
will come again
in time.