E
Mr. Lonely sits by the window each day
Watching the world pass him by in its way.
As the hours slowly trickle then drain,
His loneliness begins to rise like the rain.
It starts as a drizzle, a faint faraway drumming,
A hint of dampness with more wetness coming.
Then darker clouds gather on his mental shore,
And the downpour intensifies more and more.
The rain lashes fiercely against the glass pane,
Mirroring the storm raging in his brain.
Wave after wave of loneliness crashes in,
Threatening to drown him beneath cold skin.
When night falls and darkness prevails,
The deluge reaches its highest wails.
Mr. Lonely feels lost at loneliness' sea,
With nothing to cling to and no one to see.
His spirit has grown in lonely life's wise eyes.
Watching the world pass him by in its way.
As the hours slowly trickle then drain,
His loneliness begins to rise like the rain.
It starts as a drizzle, a faint faraway drumming,
A hint of dampness with more wetness coming.
Then darker clouds gather on his mental shore,
And the downpour intensifies more and more.
The rain lashes fiercely against the glass pane,
Mirroring the storm raging in his brain.
Wave after wave of loneliness crashes in,
Threatening to drown him beneath cold skin.
When night falls and darkness prevails,
The deluge reaches its highest wails.
Mr. Lonely feels lost at loneliness' sea,
With nothing to cling to and no one to see.
His spirit has grown in lonely life's wise eyes.
