Cyclic Motion

I watch the glass spin, faces drift in and out,

each one a story, each pause wrapped in doubt.

The world blurs together, a carousel of dreams,

people caught in their cycles, flowing like streams.

A fleeting moment shared, then gone in a blink,

a flash of a smile, as I lean back to think.

Do they know my heart aches, wrapped in restless night air?

or do I just stand here, caught in my own snare?

Waiting for the bus, I watch them all sway,

each one like a thought that won’t fade away.

Round and round it goes, this dizzying plight,

and I crave the belonging that slips out of sight.