Being Alone Poem by Randy McClave

As I walk within my home
Room to room I walk alone
Like a nomad I do roam
And everywhere I go I am known.

I look through my books in my book shelf
Memories I do remember of Passions I felt
And once again there is no one else
As I search alone all by myself.

I sit solemnly upon my comfortable chair
I again look and no one is there
So outside my window I do stare
I wonder for myself if anyone does care.

Outside in my yard I go for a walk
And once again to myself I begin to talk
Then I have a revelation so I had to balk
Is my life but a canvas and I its chalk.

In my yard I pick up a stone
I think to myself what I have I own
And never do I whine or complain or moan
So why I think is it so bad being alone.


Randy L. McClave