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Poetry: “Solitary”

Introspective poetry.



There are those blessed hours
During each and every day
When streets seem oddly empty
Of all other human beings

They’re all off in some other place
Doing oh, so many things
Working, driving, eating lunch
In some crowded restaurant

I tell you those few hours
Are a truly wondrous time
When I can walk about alone
And not be forced into a crowd

When all that seems important
Is reduced to what I see
Sometime we humans need a pack
And sometimes alone is best

Mankind cannot live alone
Not entirely at least
But still I savor those few times
When I walk those empty streets



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