Strangers

I am no stranger to these people
But we walk as ghosts
Down the long dryness of our lives
Where the sunshine of children
Throws up our shadows
And the calling of birds
Makes an empty mockery of our speech:
"How is he ? You don't say !"
Echoes with the chill wind round the still houses.

I am no stranger to these people,
But we have nothing to say,
And the smiles freeze on our faces
In brief salutation
As our minds stay numb
And we walk on by.