The Loneliness of Him

I often see him sat there on the park bench contemplating life. He is so deep in thought that he doesn't even notice the existing life around him, the hustle and bustle of people going to work or late for an appointment. He stares, so hard into emptiness, that I stare hard too at the same spot as him to see what he sees, But nothing. All I see is the beauty that sounds me in the park on this delightful day. Maybe ghostly spirits of his past flood his vision, drowning him in memories and reminding him of why his life is just so. I hesitate and wonder if I should lend a hand, he seems nice enough on the outside, but he may have a darker centre, so I stand from afar and watch this lonely man, who then comes back to reality, wipes a tear, then walks away.