Silent Faces.

[Bob Pacey]

The rows of silent faces wash past me in the street
but daunting looks and grimaces prevail.
No knowing glance or greeting, no smile and gidday mate
for in the city life follows a different trail.

They hurry at their business 'cause they need to make a quid
to keep the banks from knocking at their door.
But somehow they forget to stop and smell the roses for a while
for they're infected by livings deadly spoor.

Somewhere there are loved ones, the purpose of their toil
who will greet them with a smile when home they come.
but they hide behind defences that they've built up over time
they don't emerge from their cocoon for anyone.

Bob Pacey (C)