Silent Faces

Faces of time that do not tick,

numbered and silent,

they look out at passing lives

reflected in high prices.

I walk past a saviour

fallen in a woman’s arms

the doors of his house

no home to a discarded soul.

Lost like dropped gloves,

thrown butts and fallen leaves.

An invisible face survives,

another night, cold sleep,

card on stone,

as shadows of lives pass by.

Ciaran Burke