Strangers hardly ever see, in passing, what's really on your mind.

On sad evenings colors fade and drain away

With the hue defining my mask of a smile,

Which hides what my face would really say

To strangers who might sit for a while

Under wind caressed pines, near dusk

To chat 'bout this and that, killing time 

Saying things surreal and out of rhyme.

 

Dare I reveal the images on my mind,

Curt words, odd passages  belying facades

And false smiles, which in banter is kind,

My visitors, without a doubt, would nod

And, with ne'er regret, beg my leave to find

Their way into a more darkening stormy eve, 

Where lies are patently designed to deceive.