The genial tenant in that cosy room

Has lived there always we assume,

He looks through the window onto the street

Behind the curtains so discreet.

 

He sits and glances and sighs

With great sadness in his eyes,

Mourning the day that he was born

I found him sad, alone, forlorn.

 

I sat beside him into the night

He lay with his hands clasped tight,

The years have come, the years have gone

Not one did he depend upon.

 

Watching the minutes drift to sunrise

I see the tears and the trembling sighs,

His writhed body, now trying to stand,

I whisper gently here...take my hand.

 

© Hazel