Antagonizingly lonely, frowning for no reason, just
being who he is.
An elderly gentleman sitting and thinking of present
moments spent in gentle reminiscence, forcing back
tears he refuses to let escape.
Watching and looking around, noticing little things,
focusing on inanimate objects, not wanting to speak
to anyone or disturbing his personal thoughts for
idle conversation.
Curiosity sitting like a cat, lying in his mind,
projecting life to a poet across the room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem