The Lonely People
Who remembers
songs and stories once told
of a life lived brave, solitary embers,
loud or quiet, shy yet bold
and everybody laughs and everybody cries
and everybody hurts to live or die.
The names unimportant now, slip unnoticed into time
where passages of love are lost in emptiness,
bridal gowns stored now yellowed and faded like wine
promises never made, promises never kept
and no one sees, no one cares, no one dares,
all the dreams and hopes lost to memory unspared,
forgotten people another one among so many.
Like Alice through the looking glass
hiding down the rabbit hole
lost in the darkened silence and its sound passed
where Eleanor Rigby swept away her soul
the petals of the dream in imaged visions fade
of what could be but never was, never there
save the lonely people, those lonely people here.
A masquerade of faceless figured bodies on parade
shadows of the earth's twilight hours
living for the moment, erased and betrayed
denied their place in time and hold on power
Eleanor named only here, like Poe's lost, Lenore
never to be remembered, brief, forgotten, evermore.
for Jerry T. Curtis' contest
Eleanor Rigby
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5eMM2yjg98
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