Strangers? Poem by Shelomith Noarbe

everyday i see people
strangers i always see them
in different places they are everywhere
few strangers came into my sight
that raise a question in my mind
why have i seen this few strangers in many places i have been?
i can't find any answers
few of those strangers i saw always appeared to my sight
i give them smile
my all out beautiful smile
some smile back
some even say hi
some never minds
strangers they are no longer to be called by me
but not knowing their identity still make them strangers to me
i have friends in strangers
i have enemies too
they are strangers in this world
just strangers
but they bother me
bother the way i want to call them so
nothing but they remain a stranger
or are they?