Solitarily alone, sitting by the window, looking out
at nature, watching disinterestedly while writing.
Yet, a perfect landscape entices this mind, giving it
such a wonderful detailing of each and every moment.
Sorrow sitting alongside, watching what is going on
outside, contemplating reasons that confiscate the heart.
Taking my being, making it feel forlorn and forsaken,
midnight coming upon me as I put sorrow’s grief to bed.
Continuing to write, solitarily alone for hours yet,
greeting the morning sun when done.
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