Passerby

Maybe I'm just a passerby. Maybe, just maybe.
As I walked holding a jar of home made delicacies
I saw a chubby little girl who I knew used to be less chubby
They call her ustazah rock
She ran around in circles, chased by a male comrade
I was now a stranger, because she didnt flicker at the sight of me

A few yards further,
A little girl ran home into her front porch
And yelled to her mother, calling her out
In the darkness, I saw a sillhoutte of a person
Long flocks of hair, slightly longer than her shoulders
Wavy hair affixed to a reasonably large frame
And then I heard a familiar voice
The same voice that yelled to me telling me to go straight
Rather than trying to back into the school's gate
Oh, that was another occasion anyway

Then I saw a lanky face, shirtless and skinny
The same face who used to ride his bike to school
He was older now, with a much more growly voice
I remembered his voice used to be small for his size
Well, its been 2years I guess
I shook his hand and swapped greetings
That was all there is

Lastly, the boys brother popped out at the door frame
He was the same person driving the innova
And also in the same position I last saw him
Next to his mother, back from the butcher's
He raised his hand, maybe he still recognises me
I raised my hand and walked off

Thats my story for today
As you lay there, trying to make sense of my post
I'm already thinking of putting up a new one
Maybe about who I see tomorrow
I just feel like I have to write, regardless of what