Little I know you, only your face.
So many faces I've seen before,
As if I've opened a door of a room,
To see the faces I've met before.
The rooms; our world is so small...
The mould or template of your features detailed,
I look and observe the familiar walk...
Mannerisms I see; as I have seen before...
Even in a crowded street the characters
I know; but not to speak.
Yet they are familiar as a friend, a neighbour...
I have known for years; they look at me...
And it looks as if they will speak to me...
As if they know me; they pass me by,
As a stranger! For the glint in their eye.
So familiar, I have been here before,
Perhaps through a dimension, I am sure...
We have met many times before
I sit back and think there is much more...
Our lives are mapped before we begin;
And we pick our friends accordingly.
Our encounters leave a minute trace
That lingers to give us within memory, doubt...
Remember a face and not a name
Convenient for this lifetime, again...
To play out a role, and to immerse the essence
An experience gathered, for what purpose?
Just a thought, your face is familiar,
And to use a cliche' - we have met here.
Even though you are now a shadow;
We will meet again tomorrow and most likely the day after...

Deja vu
Author: Nigel G Wilcox 30.10.05
Chapter Three
No.33
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