My Day Poem by Chris Zachariou

My Day

Rating: 5.0

For many years now I live alone
in a tiny single room by the canal.
I have no photographs on the walls
there are no books on the shelves
and the wireless broke many ago.

I feel nothing, I need nothing, I want nothing.
I do not read the papers and hardly watch TV.

Each Friday I go out to buy groceries.
I make polite conversation with the
shop assistants and my doctor thinks
this is good for me. But I always rush back
to the safety of my silent room
with the faded old pattern on its walls.

Once in a while I travel to the shop
in Charlotte Street to buy flowers
but she is never there.
This always upsets me and my doctor
thinks this is bad for me, even though
this is the only time I feel alive.

Like most other days, today I'm sitting
at the window staring through the grimy
glass at the little boats on the water.
It's late in the afternoon, the end of summer
and the days are now much shorter.

The street is dark and nearly empty.
I stare at the young girl
sitting on the bench across the street.
I cannot see her clearly but, I fool myself,
I know it's her— it's always her.

I watch her quietly until she leaves—
she always leaves by half-past eight.
The hours pass until it's time for bed
but I don't move. I know sleep will not come
and the nightmares will soon begin again.

Sunday, July 28, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: loneliness,loss,love,sadness
Mahtab Bangalee 06 August 2019

beuatiful moden poem penned /// the day sometimes the day, time comes by loneliness solitude bell rings sadly, sings the deserted song with tears clouds and the thunder storms shed and drum as in crestfallen........///

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Serious Enquiry 06 August 2019

Are you quite with it? It seems you need to exercise body and mind.

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Bernard F. Asuncion 28 July 2019

A well penned poem, sir Chris...10+++

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Chris Zachariou 06 August 2019

Thank you very much for your kind comment.

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