In the silence of my thoughts,

I am left to gather the fragments.

Those left over from our conversations,

That didn't quite fit in and were ignored.

So much of thought in words

Is just filler space and can be ignored.

We with the tongue so glib, talk on

Never realizing our words are just filling the air.

Soon they bid farewell, with nary a reply.

Our diatribe of an endless talk, ignored

As if it was not heard at all, and on they go.

Such is a crowded afternoon on the street.