Lost Poem by Sexaginta Prista

Walking deep in thoughts in park alley
reflecting on my lost past,
having questions about my present
and a future in a dust.

The cold light of the moon
is creeping sneaky through,
making those drops sparkle
of the nightly dew.

The wind is blowing gently,
creating mysterious sounds,
shaping all those trees
looking like dancing clowns.

I startle, look around,
embraced lovers’ leaving out,
I realize I was alone
as their voices’ fading out.

I don’t know what happened,
and how I've lost my way,
and ended lonely in the park
so far away.