Stops

I was going through my journals when I came across this one. Not an old one, but it amazes me sometimes when it comes to the stuff I forget about. I read it remembering that I never considered it finished, and found much to my surprise that it seemed to be fine just as it was... you be the judge!

"Stops"

Twelve.
It feels empty
Yet ghost of the past
Years and then days
Speak.

Twelve.
Strain and squeals
Old with the new
Domestic
Abroad
It's fourteen with two
Leaving their mark
On these pages written
Forgotten otherwise
In the contrasting shades
Of the underground.

Nassau
Eleven
Then twenty-three faces
Unknown with the lights
Passing at thirty;
Work maybe home
The obligatory look
From number sixteen
Contrasting shade.

Now it's nineteen
Yet I focus to one
His pale eye
A story unsung
Between his graying beard
Hardened face
Going unnoticed
I forget twenty through four.

Despite the faces that past
It feels empty
With stops
One to the last...
©2009clarencecbess