Always Passing by

On my regular early morning walk
down 38th cross, jayanagar 8th block
eight door past ours
heard raised voices  yet again
could there be peace? I was passing by.

After school, after lots of cricket play
treading back home, tired but refreshed
friends not hesitating being loud
heard neighbors wishing, saw them waving
what a relief to be home, I was passing by.

Well past midnight, study over and all
walking down college lane, some refreshing air 
aren’t they the same two chatting still
puzzled how they got top grades, I was passing by.

An hour after contiguous work
felt like stretching, itching to go
filled my cup with coffee burnt 
saw him lost coding –  is he coding 
or always fixing? I was passing by.

One day, on my ride to work
past the community front
groups of children waiting for the bus
it was the grandma and her grandchild
was there ever a mother, I was passing by.

Off the train, pacing down the steps
swimming against scurrying reps
stopping for a breath on the small landing
the same strumming and the homeless man
it still was good music, I was passing by.

On the trail in the park
rarely seeing anyone smile
now past the slides and now the swings
saw the bright eyes, heard the beautiful laughs
good life is young, I was passing by.

Now sitting on the porch
thinking of the long weekend ahead
seeing the golden sun shimmer down
don’t I see him daily or does he me?
I wonder if I am passing by, or he?

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