A solitary man was he
who shunned responsibility
and crawled back to his empty shell,
he thought himself alive and well.
He spurned an opportunity
for love in perpetuity,
instead his nervousness took hold,
he lost the yearning to be bold.
As weeks went by he grew, imbued
with loneliness and solitude,
but not with laughter or the joy
he well remembered as a boy.
He grew morose, and disinclined
to mix with others of his kind,
he shut himself away with books,
avoiding disapproving looks.
Perhaps one day he'll realize
commitment is a larger prize,
that the way to win a heart
is not to run, to be apart.
He hopes that day is dawning soon,
but, perhaps, it's like the blue moon
waiting for its time to rise
so infrequently before his eyes.