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Stranger To Each Other

Looking up through the jungle outside of my
New window:
I can hear the airplanes roaring, the women on them as
Silent as snakes through the reeds;
And I remember a child hood of classrooms on cinderblocks:
I remember coming across her own childhood once in awhile,
And moving through it,
And speaking softly and reverently like a mouse in a hurricane
In a library;
And maybe her eyes lit upon my childhood, as she sat down on
The floor held up by the cinderblocks too,
And turned her eyes towards the teacher as our two childhoods
Separated, going away, becoming stranger and stranger to
Each other.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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