Walls enclose so many things,
and often have no doors,
a mind can have so many rooms,
without obeying spatial laws.
Dark or light the varied rooms,
where thoughts can play at games,
to fill mansions of many floors,
and tenants have unforgotten names.
Nights where faces come and go,
all marching from distant past,
but all were gone so long ago,
from the first face to the last.
Time that ebbs at varied pace,
as memory plays out the parade,
recalling all the ones once lost,
and those who never stayed.
Universe of lonely empty feeling,
all that memory has now become,
No sense of being yet still alive,
just a chill that leaves you numb.
A heart that once yearned for love,
of the promise that it can bring,
but yearnings perished long ago,
to become this sad and lonely thing.
Too old and too alone....
