Spoke to him the idle man

now sits alone a bar stool

seems becomes his friend.

All the others know the fool.

~

Once inside were a sweet dream,

a violin concerto plays his memory

soft her smile, serene did seem

a minute, together a forever melody.

~

If only then had he known today

might she have weathered the storm

ahead sensing his unraveling way.

Without explanation he lost form.

~

With no one looking the fool might cry

For then more simply it is a time to die.

---

©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021