Watching the World Go By

Sat at the window,
The ground level is just slightly
Below the level of the street:
With a pint of ale in my hand
I look out.

Hurrying past is the woman
On the way to a meeting
And a young lady
With a pushchair 
A teenage boy and girl go past.
Then a cyclist 

On the other side of the street
Stands a jewellers;
Nearby a bookshop
And a tattoo parlour.

Looking up I half wonder
What goes on in the floors above:
Sleeping.  Reading.  Watching television
As people pass by below.

The pub door opens
And I hear a man singing outside
Cap on floor and playing a guiltar
I don't know his circumstances
But he's trying to get by,
I suppose as each of us are.