Solitude
and I, what a pair we make;
I with
my naive aspirations, he with his taciturn air.
He watches
me with bewildered amusement as I grasp out for clouds,
Pieces of Heaven that were never meant for me.
He sighs
a sigh for my frivolity.
To him, I am a child wanting gratification.
I want
no more than anyone else.
Oh, to love...and to be loved.
But I,
unlike all other cherubs, cannot find a cloud to light upon.
Solitude, he shakes his head at my futile attempts.
Still,
we have become companions, he and I.
His sphere seems the only one I am welcome in.
And so
I must be content to bide my time with him, for he will always be there,
Even after the most beautiful clouds have been whisped away.
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