Through the window view, a thirsty lawn with unclad shades of gray
Arthritic winds have claimed the dawn, this wretched dismal day
The trees bend low, the sun will rise, with solemn loathing dread
With rote routine, he breaks the loaf, one slice of frozen bread
He looks around the cheerless room, a familiar scent of wrong
An angled light has slithered in, with shadows deep and long
and spotlights what's become of him, a man who isn't there...
with clothes unkempt, a shuffled step, and stubble on his chin
Four vinyl chairs, Formica clad, a game of solitaire
Before him sits a plate of food, at a table set for one
A cup of cold, a cigarette, and he who sits alone
The room depicts, what might have been, but reeks with wrought despair
A parakeet within a cage has mocked him once again
The voice is shrill, it squawks with rage, 'Unlock me if you dare!'
The floor is strewn with littered seed, where mice will share the spill
All time has stopped, in ash and dust, the hours couldn't care.......
He takes a puff, then bites the crust, charred taste of toasted bread
For company, she stares at him across the morning's edge,
Her body propped against the wall, beneath the wooden ledge
Her fixed eyes stare, as if surprised...all life has long been dead
Inaudible, just barely heard, he hums a song they knew
He tells her that the coffee's done, and offers her a chair
He shuffles cards, a few for her, and pours a cup of brew
With rote routine, he cuts the deck ........for double solitaire
Written for Roy Jerden's Contest: "Poems To Keep You Awake At Night"