A Solitary Man
When the child held within cries out for release, that is the moment that stalks my solitude. So much of love left yet to learn, so much…
Poetry
When the child held within cries out for release,
that is the moment that stalks my solitude.
So much of love left yet to learn,
so much for life to teach.
Lonely stars bleed their light
in the frost of my heart,
like white gems against the deepest night
while I endure the somber solitude of the day.
I am the prosecutor of my own misdeeds,
boarded by old bare wood, and hard with age.
Just a wishing star in disguise,
in love with the essence of her deceased will,
another memory swallowed by the dawn.