A Crowded Place
He'd sit on that quiet cold concrete chair
In the playful park,
Would leave when the last child left,
Sipped constantly from the bottle in his pocket,
And watched the children play,
Never spoke a word with them.
When he left it was to warm his lonely bed,
Sleep was elusive in the shadow of emptiness,
Empty house, empty bed, empty life,
But he'd become a part of their games,
He smiled as they laughed,
Frowned as they squabbled.
Then one day they played to an empty chair,
They waited for eternity for his return.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.