The people come with purpose and they leave without dismay,
the coffee shop aromas rising all throughout the day.
I watch them come, I watch them go, I watch them say their names,
and talk, and linger on the subject, and forget to pay.
How very human are we that we do not know the way,
and yet we wander in the dark, and try, and try again.
I love the people coming with their thoughts beyond the grave,
and when they leave, they turn to face the people who remain.
They grin at us, and then begin to laugh, as if to say
that everything, regardless of the pain, will be okay.
I watch the people come and go, and leave to go away
from here, but where they’re going, they will be alright, always.