The Game

The Game

When I was young we had this game
My best friend and I were always playing
We’d watch people quietly from afar
And try to imagine what they were saying

From the looks they wore their faces
We’d make up the stories of their lives
You can often tell by looking at a man
From what deep well his emotion derives

Why did he look like he wasn’t all there
Why did she wear those flowers in her hair
Why did he seem weighed down by his sorrow
Why did she seem not to have a care

She seemed to have an answer for all his woes
He seemed to have a question he daren’t ask
She was in tears, she was going away for good
He looked like he was smiling from behind his mask

He looked excited, ready to conquer the world
They prepared to board their international flight
She looked terrified as she followed him in
She smiled at him shyly, trying to conceal her fright

A grown man now, sometimes I still play
It gives me a thrill to divine what people say
A chance encounter: Like reading a page from a novel
Until someone else grabs the book away

6 thoughts on “The Game

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