Moving quickly,
a shadow among shadows,
avoiding all stares.
A phone to his ear,
at the other end,
a ghost knows the truth.
Pockets, heavy with regrets,
and hollow eyes, searching
for things he cannot have.
A life story
written on his face
for anyone who cares to see.
In a hurry to be home,
where dreams and illusions
roam freely, unashamed.
Photographs stare
but ask no questions
or demand apologies.
Summoned by wine,
old friends come to dinner.
Stillness vanishes
in trivial chores.
Pink evening light
watches over him,
as he folds another day.
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Author:
Dasim (
Offline) - Published: July 28th, 2025 23:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
This poem hauntingly casts its spell of setting a mood and telling a story in few words. Images well used it tells me of a mechanical and lonely life in the midst of millions. Very nicely done and a fave
A sense of questioning of feeling so lonely in a world of millions, enjoyed the read
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