Lonely on a summers night at home
A touch, a laugh, sick of being alone
No number to fill this space on his mobile phone
That card he found on the bench in the park
As random as throwing a picked up stone
Working every hour that this God sends
A TV life has it's perfection, everybody has a friend
Maybe it's authors have yet to meet a man like me
A space yet to comprehend
She sounds nice on the call but that's how it's supposed to be
The perfect girl would never just fall from the nearest tree
Money in the wall for a stack of our queens head
Cash only my love for these knickers on the floor and 10 minutes in your bed
Life has it's imperfection and for these he's sometimes flawed
But your only here once and a long time dead,
6 feet under Earths floor,

Poem of a Lonely Man.

JJB