(Image courtesy Sydney Gaw)

Creative Writing

Poem: Passing Period

Lonely halls, mundane walls, I see you every day. Bump in passing, no true asking; Never much to say   Same is said of You and me; Two functions that coexist, But never stray that time of day Or venture from the flock   Quick “hi” in passing, no true asking But I still breathe…
<a href="https://highschool.latimes.com/author/sydneygaw/" target="_self">Sydney Gaw</a>

Sydney Gaw

September 30, 2021

Lonely halls, mundane walls,

I see you every day.

Bump in passing, no true asking;

Never much to say

 

Same is said of You and me;

Two functions that coexist,

But never stray that time of day

Or venture from the flock

 

Quick “hi” in passing, no true asking

But I still breathe your name.

I wonder if you do the same,

Or if I play a one-girl game

 

You are to me every waking thought,

But what am I to you?

A friendly glance, no name you sought?

I’m just another blurry figure in your passing through.

 

To live and not exist

In the minds of passing people,

Lonely halls, mundane walls,

Am I one of you?

 

I think, therefore I am,

But no one thinks of me

So I am to them and You: a nonexistent notion.

 

That passing hour, quickly devour’d

I walk the edge of your blurry vision

Hoping to convey my frisson —

Only to be dismissed upon the passing hour

 

With no more than a bleary glance,

A tilt of the head

I break the trance,

Gone like the dead

 

No word that could have been said,

I leave you with no passing notion.

Quarter-turn but then decide against it

Onward, mind in rapid motion

 

Another hour, passed away.

I live on not in the minds of passing people