11 April 2006


Quidam: a nameless passer-by, a solitary figure lingering on a street corner, a person rushing past. One who cries out, sings and dreams within us all.

Your world is yours
not mine, Quidam.
Your dreams are yours.
You may have touched the stars,
but they weren't moved.
And if you reach for me,
I may not chooose
to hold your hand
I might smile
or I might turn away.

1 comment:

Ó Seasnáin said...

wow, this is odd.