A Hollow Sort
The day wakes up hot, angry - miserable.
The hours drag on without a sound,
Calm desperation, I look for you everywhere,
But, you're nowhere to be found.
I think of younger, happier times,
The days when your smile seemed just for me.
But, now, it's all sad memories and dust,
Things turned out the way they had to be.
Ah, but, for a while, you had me going,
Thinking: maybe I am a hollow sort, after all?
What a terrible thought, as I dig up the days,
Line up the last 730 of them to re-call.
I look, but can't find the person you see.
I'm nothing, to be sure, just an ordinary man,
Who laughs, sings badly, and too often cries.
Randomly placed here, doing what I can.
Evening arrives, gentle, calm, cool - soothing.
And, I find that I don't miss you anymore.
Pain and confusion have finally moved on,
Malcontents, hand in hand, out the front door.