Lonely Me

something I always wanted to write.

My shadow stretches long and thin,
a silent friend, where do I begin?
To tell the tale of empty rooms,
and afternoons filled with soft glooms.

The clock ticks loud, a steady beat,
like lonely drums in a quiet street.
I watch the world outside my pane,
sunlight falls, but feels like rain.

A cup of tea, a book unread,
the thoughts of all I've left unsaid.
The world moves on with hurried grace,
and I am stuck in this lonely place.

But in the quiet, a subtle sound,
a gentle hum from the hallowed ground
Of my own heart, a steady tune,
that knows the warmth of a lonely moon.

It whispers softly, "You are whole,"
"You have your own uncharted soul."
So here I sit, alone but free,
in the quiet of this Lonely Me.