The busy days roll by rather quickly
The evenings are a bit longer
Despite the omnipresent idiot box
The heaps of unread books and DVDs
Sometimes loneliness slips in
Surreptitiously through the door
Making the room a bit cloudy
Even the lamp in the corner
Begins to get dimmer and
Vision deteriorates as
Tears fall gently like
Tiny raindrops forming
A little pool on the floor
Being a single woman in a big city
Though safe is not always easy
There are divergent views on being alone, Arnold - We mortal millions live alone Wordsworth - For oft when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude. But I appreciate the concerns of a single lady in a city penned with poetic fervor.
Poetry is the best resort to overcome anxiety in the city alone!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
bit poignant...unusual in your writes...deep and touching...10