days

they march past in single file
right to left
then farther back, break rank,
spilling out into a funnel.

those in single file
are fresh-faced, with uniforms bright and crisp,
their voices strong with purpose,
their polished shoes in lockstep
driven by an unseen clock,
orderly and focused.

farther back,
just past the funnel's stem,
the rhythms break apart,
most uniforms look worn and tattered,
faces become fuzzy
and voices become noise that doesn't matter.
they mill about
with nowhere else to go
until they fade
into oblivion.

oddly, though, a few stand out
among the crowd, still recognizable,
each different but somehow connected
by details still so visible
from this far away.
they are better than the rest,
and not just their clothes
or their voices still discernable,
no, it's this: the best are those
with you in them.

soon enough they too will fade
and now you've guaranteed
no more like them will be made.

© Mark E. Dougherty