A Solitary Man

In the quiet hours of a moonlit night,

A solitary man, bathed in light,

Walks the empty streets with a heavy heart,

Carrying shadows that refuse to part.

His footsteps echo in the stillness

A lonely rhythm, a haunting sound,

As the stars above watch in silent despair,

For they know his longing, his unspoken prayer.

He speaks to the wind, but it doesn’t reply,

His words are whispers, lost to the sky,

His dreams are distant, like ships at sea,

Drifting away, where he’ll never be.

The world moves on, yet he stands still,

A statue of sorrow, against his will,

In his eyes, the weight of years gone by,

A well of tears, yet too proud to cry.

He yearns for a touch, a voice, a name,

But finds only echoes of forgotten flame,

His heart, once vibrant, now cold as stone,

In a crowded world, he’s all alone.