Sunsets of a Stranger

Too many missed sunsets & the eyes
remember loneliness, the cold hull
of screens whose suns never set. Frozen
ephemereal phenomena who can a paused
waterfall impress? The child bored on the MRT
is occupied more with moving pixels, an animated
face mirroring its sunrises back to itself.

For years you've carried this sadness: whiffs
of shampoo whose owners left a blazing
scent in their wake; a sunset you will not remember
her name by; her face of inscrutable dawns no
bird has taken flight. By the crowd's pact you
will nest in the screen whose suns never set,
trace the curves of sparrows never making it home
to roost, migrate with the carriages of strange
faces mirroring your own phenomena.