on my friends list, on my friends

People I knew, people I know;
some talk to me, some don’t.
some I’ll meet, some I won’t.
Some linger out of sight taking
in scents along the neckline
and breathing in stillness
content with presence prefect.
So often I never quite gather
why any came to me or how.
What drew them? Did they
read me, did they not?
Do they care to look as deep
as I will surely make them?
My counsel with they keep?