Ode to A Lonely Man
Ode To A Lonely Man. by L.W.Pick
With vacant stare set in rings of red,
What is on his mind.
With what sad thoughts his brain is fed,
Thoughts better left behind.
A job that he can scarcely hold,
From complaints that come with age.
But still he tries with heart so bold,
To earn his weekly wage.
His home is gone his wife is dead,
His only son in jail.
His daughter did a drunkard wed,
Wherein did he fail?
With face so lined and skin so stretched,
It hangs from bone to brittle bone.
He longs to take that one last breath,
And lay beneath the loam.
This lonely man is everywhere,
If we would care to see.
For night does strip the soul so bare,
When no ones there, but he.
Yet so many times you’ll see him sit,
Alone, there at the bar,
Or in a park where people flit,
So near, and yet, so far.
I say to you to take the time,
Speak with those who are alone.
Care not that they’re past their prime,
Care not if they have no home.
And though you may gain nothing,
There is nothing you have lost.
Your caring heart may help him,
And surely that’s no cost.
Copyright © Les Pick | Year Posted 2026
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