In Passing

How many faces have I passed,
how many names?
Once familiar, once dear,
now lost in a sea of memories.

Random faces, random names,
bring them to surface again,
but imprints remain imprints
and the past remains a time that's been lost.

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For the n-th time, saw someone's face in passing, thought it was an old friend, realized it wasn't, and wondered how the real person was faring. How hard is it to keep in touch?

Very, apparently, when we don't care enough.