There are a few people that I see, every dear morning that I pick.
There are a few people that I see, every day when I leave.
I go to work and there they be, sitting and waiting for me.
We wait together, and travel in, for all of us companions we be.
There’s the man with the long coats, the large turbans and phone on hold.
There’s the girl that’s sweet and quick and always reads on her hips.
There’s the old lady that sheers and bees and there’s the woman carrying her inn.
There are the men and women that work the trains, guiding and helping as they may (each day). There are the friends that go to school and always laugh with thy fool.
There are the people that receive and there are the people that rush to breathe.
There are a few people that I see, standing, sitting or looking at their feet.
There are some that are tired yet full and there are others that seem aloof.
Occasionally some people that I see will turn their head, raise their eyes and look back at me.
I smile, I nod and there they be, noding back at me.
There are a few people that I see, yet I hope I (dare to) keep in me.
There are a few people that I see, every dear night that I retreat.
One of them, I am he, and I too shall be.