Words of Faces

Like an observer I see the world,

A child’s heart and curiosity dwells,

Inside of me, people are my book,

I try to read them, not the clothes,

Nor their outer appearance appeals,

To me, my eyes are on their faces,

That speaks to me, now and then,

Myriad faces of youth, and middle,

Aged and even the older faces with lines,

Have something in their pots, that,

My soul smells, eyes read the stories,

They never tell, manipulative mind,

Starts penning it down on the sheets,

Invisible, I stared once face of my baker,

She was busy in her silence to pack,

My orders, her calm yet sweet attitude,

Spoke to me many words, I saw a woman,

With a life story never shared, nor told,

Why is it that I hear the words,

Not spoken ever! Not to me at least,

I was a stranger, so was she,

And like this I keep seeing stories,

On every face that I meet or pass by,

Myriad faces have given me prose,

And poetry, the faces become canvas,

On which my soul writer begins to work,

From behind, it writes and writes,

Till its heart desires, I am a puppet,

And not more, or just another face,

With a story read by someone unknown,

Faces have words too,

silent faces speak,

Faces differ, but often the tales are alike.....................................................................

*Monalisa Joshi*