The Lonely Man
The lonely man bothers no one,
Keeps to himself each day.
No orders barked, no calls to heed.
He lives in his own way.
They say he’s lonely. Is he, though?
The truth is seldom shown.
He’s always been a private man.
His wife is gone, his kids have grown.
He walks the lanes at early light,
No reason, just a way.
Avoids all chatter, meets no gaze.
Another quiet day.
His curtains stay half-open wide,
Enough to watch the trees.
He listens to the radio
And drinks his tea with ease.
Old photographs collect no dust,
He wipes them every week.
His wedding suit still fits him well,
Though now it smells antique.
The neighbours whisper when they pass,
“A shame, to be alone.”
he just smiles behind the glass,
Content to be unknown.
His world is quiet, firm, and small,
Just how he likes it kept.
He says his prayers at half-past ten,
Then closes both his eyes and sleeps
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (7)
I think you just described my life, but my wedding suit doesn't fit me anymore. 😉😉
Captivating poem and well written, good luck.
that's how my mom was after dad "left" us. she was content with her memories until, at 95, they began to fade. GREAT poem. Sad and yet, not sad.
Amazing
This is awesome
I could relate to this impressive I must say.
Loved it. He is not bothering anybody. It’s good life.