Sipping tea of peppermint,
I watch those who pass me by.
Tucked away into a corner,
not enough to catch their eye.
Students heavily burdened
make their way across the school;
Some are laughing, some are scared,
all are trying to seem cool.
I see those that stand and wait,
those that drop their breakfast trays,
those that are stood up by dates,
those that sit and hide their face.
What could any of them know
about the one who watches here?--
Stirring idly in her tea,
toying with a strand of hair?
But I know them all quite well,
those that pass beneath my stare,
and I give them little names,
and meet them every morning here.
Neither names, nor addresses,
do I know or wish to know,
nor jobs, nor acquaintances,
but know important things that show.
For people are a mix of all
the tiny little things they do:
Talking smiling, mumbling, crying,
Kissing, fidgeting, falling, sighing.
Oh, your morning lists to-do,
meeting friends and buying food!
My days never were so new
before I started watching you.
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