Loneliness

Time rarely allows me to develop a poem they way I might if the clock ticked in my favor. I saw a boy toss a stone in a street puddle yesterday. Here’s what grew from that seed, that stone. It’s missing something, but I move on.

Image result for lonely man

Loneliness

A stone,
sugared with silt,
beneath the grandeur

of a bloated log
where the pond
slopes deepest,

fathoms the complexities
of turtles, the philosophies
of cold, and would shiver

if able to comprehend
affection’s embroidery.

 

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2 thoughts on “Loneliness

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