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