an old bag lady
ringing doorbells in the night
recalling welcome
loneliness
drop by today #19…
with remote in hand
channel surfed two hours
seeking anything
drop by today #17…
staring at the phone
denying one simple fact
no one’s gonna call
survivors…
unseen battlefield
where only one body lies
that of a loved one
taken years ago by death
now life’s raging loneliness
loose bits of life #11
old rusted scissors
quilt maker’s
last true companion
nugatory slumber…
in the night
when you reach
and
the warmth
is gone
the day’s words
of
sincere sympathy
seem
as empty
as
the pillow
besides
your head
and
when sleep
finally comes
night’s
cold arms
all too soon
embrace
each dream
and
memory
of
another’s soul
curled
next
to yours
isolated…
she said to the night
i’m alone now and frightened
the night’s voice whispered
age makes us feel alone but
it’s how life’s really traveled
