The Lonely Stroll

Hands in my pocket, I’m off on a lonely stroll,

Accompanied only by the whims of my heart, and the voice of my soul;


The thoughts, they twirl and fog my mind,

As I tread forward, I leave them all behind;


A flickering streetlight, struggling to stay,

Although clouded by leaves, fights to light my way;


The asphalt rests in the calm of the night,

Glinting shyly in the tangerine light;


These streets bring about a tranquil mood,

Offering a cordial welcome, not once they’re rude.


And if I maintain quite, I think I hear,

The innocent stories of my yesteryear;


The streets on which I laughed and played,

Hold sweet memories that never fade.


I’m lost in a world that seems so pure,

A little child again; with curiosity galore.


I snap back to reality, I heave a loud sigh,

I take a deep breath and look up at the sky;

A snowball in pitch black, the moon shines bright,

I wonder if it knows that it’s not its own light;

It scans the ethereal sky; but not a single star it finds,

Least it knows; it’s a polluted world, with polluted minds.



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