Alone

Alone

There was joy, the sun streamed in,
love flooding every vestige,
laughter too.
Then the creeping,
the imperceptible loneliness,
the washing tide of sadness,
this... madness;
Slipping into the dark hours,
like a shadow in my night,
a blinding of the light.
Slinking in the back streets
of some memory left in retreat.
Sitting on a hillside at midnight,
the distant lights fading,
until all that is left,
is a faint heartbeat,
and the murmur of a cold wind.

© Richard Michael Parker 2011