“Feeling alone”

A quiet house, in twilight’s gentle arms,  
The ticking clock, a soundtrack to the gloom—  
A single chair beneath the dusty charms  
Of photographs that cheer a silent room.  

Through window glass, the wind is sweeping by,  
It hums of crowds and laughter far from here.  
Within these walls, the shadows softly sigh,  
As emptiness becomes both friend and fear.  

Yet in the hush, a heartbeat’s steady drum  
Reminds the soul it’s never truly gone;  
For loneliness, though heavy, can become  
A language sharing hope from dusk to dawn.  

A single star, aloft in endless blue,  
Consoles the night—and so, I’ll linger too.  
Perhaps the quiet is a waiting space,  
For voices warm, and love, and new embrace.

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