Alone Again
What has happened to the quiet morning
the tea cozy, Sunday sun just coming up
over fields of buttercups and lambs?
What has become of an empty seashore
stretching left and right uninterrupted, clean,
gulls, sand, little waves following each other
as far as you can see?
What has become of solitude?
What has happened to the quiet morning
a radio that only hisses the dreadful silence
of an empty city, plastic wrappers whipped
by wind under parked vehicles that never
move, their tires flat?
What has become of bustle?
What has become of us
there’s no going back now
solitude or loneliness our only alternatives
To Go Back To
SEARCH RESULTS
Hit your browser's
BACK BUTTON
© Johnmichael Simon
2011
.
