“No one to turn to alone sad”

A single lamp burns in the windowpane,  
Its golden pools spread wide and thin—  
Rain draws on the glass like longing,  
Tapping, tapping to be let in.

The clock ticks out a tired story,  
Each second knits a silent shroud,  
Shadows gather in the corners  
And curl around me, close and proud.

Every chair sits stiff and vacant,  
The phone hums flat, untouched by voice—  
Words I’d say hang, sharp and tangled,  
No gentle ear, no warming choice.

Loneliness, a heavy garment,  
Fits my shoulders edge to seam,  
Yet in this hush I shape my sorrow  
And cradle hope, a fragile dream.

Perhaps tomorrow brings the morning—  
A gentle knock, a laugh, a friend—  
For even hearts weighed down with sadness  
Turn toward light, and heal, and mend.

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