Written in 1972 and edited

In the darkness of the night
A man, like a big cat, sits;
With the silence of his solitude
He thinks of who he is and why he is.

Tears and sorrows come to mind
Of lonely hours and broken dreams
He knows the wiseness of mistakes learned
But alone he cries.

Distant memories of lovely people
Joyous hours of by-gone days
Intimate thoughts of shared moments
Flash through his mind.

But years have passed
And he’s grown wise;
Wise enough to feel the emptiness
of being alone; and he is alone

Thirst of wine has left,
earthly objects have lost their glow,
Tenderness and love
Is all he seeks, and yet no more.

And in his world of thoughts
He remembers well,
the lovely lass who came to dwell
in the refuge of his heart.

But recall is all he can,
for in the softness of the feathered pillows
The imprint of life’s once enchanted rose
has slowly disappeared

So in the darness of the night,
A man, like a big cat, sits;
With the silence of his solitude
He weeps, of knowing he’s alone