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
I hope it would not go far as written in the end. But this is an awesome poem and I love it! 😇
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, the end is figurative and a fictional speaker. I appreciate that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are welcome! Oh, I see. Well, I get it now. Anyway, thank you for the great poem! 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person