The Man Who Walked Alone

The Man Who Walked Alone

He walked the street,

no one saw him,

shadows clung to his coat,

and his shoes whispered secrets.

The wind carried his voice,

and though he asked no questions,

he offered no answers,

he simply listened.

Windows reflected his face,

with eyes hollow yet full of stories,

so I followed his steps,

my breath short, my heart loud.

He vanished at dawn,

leaving echoes in the stone,

a trail of whispers behind him,

a man who never returned.

I stood alone,

feeling the emptiness of the street,

as the wind carried him farther,

leaving only silence.

Time moved quietly,

and the shadows grew longer,

while memories of him lingered,

like ghosts of fading footsteps.

Yet I felt him still,

near and distant at once,

alive in the dim air,

present in the quiet.

The street holds his story,

so I walk slowly,

and he walks beside me,

even in his absence.

My dear reader, thank you for your support and letting me share with you the love of my life, an insight into my thoughts, feelings, and life. God bless you