blogging, poetry, Uncategorized

Curative Solitude

Holding a paper

and a pen,

sitting here

in my private den.

Alone, in my own world

of varied thoughts,

disseminated all over,

in slovenly knots.

Yes I’m alone,

but my world isn’t dark,

‘cause I’ve already been rescued

by my flying Clark.

Everybody has loads to recite,

about one’s lonesome time,

through verses, language,

or through mime.

Being the sole elated one

somewhen feels weird,

I wish with all, this bliss could be

shared.

18 thoughts on “Curative Solitude”

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