Which Is The Bliss Of Solitude Poem by Edward A. Morris

No one to share with in life's little joys.
No one to talk to; just me and my toys.
An empty existence, a meaningless moan:
It's cold and disheartening to be all alone.

No one to save me supposing I fall;
No one to nurture or notice at all.
I stare down each jeopardy all on my own;
It's numb and unnerving to be so alone.

No one to drain my attention span dry.
No one my musings might dissatisfy.
Unshackled, I shine in what you can't condone:
What mind wouldn't revel in being alone?