Mr. Lonely

He sat upon the cushioned seat.

His brain upon the world he beat.

His profile unmoving, almost stonily,

Solitude drenching, Mr. Lonely.

His eyes did carry bags of travel.

Worlds before him have unraveled.

Minutes, days, months, and years,

He could not weep his wanton tears.

Staring into a smoldering peace,

Happiness now a broken lease.

Across the coals, himself he's raked.

The claim upon his heart un-staked.

Alone he sat to contemplate.

Alone in a catatonic state.

Widowed in a position stonily,

Vivacity thirsting, Mr. Lonely.

-p.s.y