Travelling with a carriage of strangers,

Each with a past in their stance

A curious look in an occasional eye:

A tragedy hidden or a near dead romance?

Catching her eye

Which then slips the net.

Judging yourself in the window

Is a reflection you've never met.

A Pause at a station,

The carriage empties then fills

You make lifes for these travellers

All their luck and their ills.

Where have they been? Where are they going?

Why are they frowning?

Can you answer these questions?

Are the answers worth knowing?

An instant liking to an open face

Quickly hidden behind a newspaper wall

These contempary examples of a contempary race

Could it be that they are nothing at all?

Where are the individuals

In this carbon copy mess?

And subject to the same rules

You join them.

The same shade-more or less.