By in Personal

Solitude in an another day

Sitting alone in my room watching the rain come down in sheets and thundering,

typhoons and gales, storm and hail where it that rat going to hide now,

No don't wait to go and I think that it is too much to see for harboring,

Thieves in the night who run out away from social values and limits to bow,

Here is the new day, how should I now recall,

Every time I spent here spring, winter and fall.

So slow to turn the road has disappeared forever from my sight,

Going back to the den of thieves and prostitutes for whom there remains little to crow,

Under the bridge flows the water forever it seems the passage is a night,

But in the society of men and women, I feel the incessant and urgent need to bow.

Image Credit » by lena1

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peachpurple wrote on April 24, 2015, 3:04 AM

nice poem, you write this while looking outside the windows?

iwrite28 wrote on April 24, 2015, 5:27 AM

This is a very nice poem. Nice imagery.

cheri wrote on April 26, 2015, 10:21 PM

I like the word solitude but I do not like the way it feels.
Nice poem.