I saw a man smile at me, then I saw that he was dead and his eyes were empty.
How then could this be called a smile? So devoid of feeling as the dead are.
And these empty lifeless eyes that still watch me as I pass.
He walks without a goal. These shuffled steps are full of remorse.
What could've been will be no more, and never will again.
Still I saw him smile at me, but he was dead and his eyes were empty.
No words, a silence, but a smile. If it could be named so. Empty and meaningless as his continued shuffling.
He smiled at me as I passed, but I saw he was dead. And those empty eyes will never see again. Nor those ragged legs dance.
Only the smile, empty and useless now and forever more.
I saw the smile, but I saw he was dead and his eyes were empty.
© "Raksha" RJ Boettcher 2002
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