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