. . . I am . . .
I am alone in this crowded room
Faces swim by in a haze of near reality
I know if I focus I'll see the throng
But I'd rather be alone
. . . serenity . . .
Serenity is such a prize and so hard to grasp
slipping thorough my fingers like sand
My thoughts are simmering in the social pot
I am so very alone
. . . I stand . . .
I stand as an island in a sea of refuse
Pristine beaches of gleaming white
Aware but not noticing
Choosing to be alone
. . . I write . . .
I write of a time when I wasn't so very alone
when I mattered to a chosen few
when love warmed me every waking moment
I wasn't then alone
, , , You . . .
You went away when I needed you most
my soul yearning for comfort and peace
the cold of your back was the last thing I felt
And then I was alone
And now I am alone |
