Don't you ever wondered how other people really looks at you when you are unaware of been under their sight?
Don't you wonder when you look inside the eyes of a beloved one, what their heart are really thinking?
What kind of portrait we command in the memory of those we care most?

How the people looks at me?
Do they like I always do?
Making a mental portrait
like a painter without a clue?

Norman Rockwell once did it,
into a mirror he went and look,
painting that stranger reflected
smoking a pipe, looking smooth.

Is that the way to others see us?
Of friendship the important glue,
that holds everything together,
the cracking old with the new.

Every morning it will be there
a stranger with overhaul overdue
from a comb and a splash of water,
“good morning, do I know you?”

From the mirror, looking at us,
we try to smile, that’s no quite good,
the image offers only a wry expression,
maybe coffee is needed, you thought.

Out on the streets blend yourself
inside the human river, its multitude,
thousand go by, looking at you,
without a smile, with an absent attitude.

How the people looks at all of us?
We can’t know it with certitude,
because we are painting portraits
of them as well, also without a clue.