Lonely men seem lonelier,
sitting quietly in a cafe
listening to other people talk,
even in groups, caps bent
over cooling coffee cups,
kidding, sharing a riddle,
no one waiting at home,
writing letters, or out
on the road collecting
nuts for injured wildlife,
picking up trash, or shopping
for microwave meals for one
and jars of jams and pickles,
almost like homemade.
~~~
This is dedicated to a recently deceased man who lived alone and wrote letters.
Inspired by Thursday Inspiration and Word Garden
This is a lovely poem Denise, and it is very meaningful. Thanks for joining in.
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