Being Alone with the Alone

Being Alone with the Alone

One day, I sat alone in the city park

Enjoying the day with the Alone.

A wonderful little old lady

Known as a traveler came.

She was black-brown haired,

Quite dumpy-small with a red skirt and white t-shirt on.

She obnoxiously disrupted my loneliness.

“Don’t you mind to let me sit next to you here?” she said.

“No prob!” I replied.

She began to talk a lot of things that

She was traveling around the world.

“Yes, I see.”

She continued talking.

Too engrossed in talking, she spilled a cup of white-coffee

On the brown wooden table in front of me.

Her inner beauty was covered by her faux pas.

I absolutely hated slipshod women,

But she was thick-skinned.

She smiled without asking for pardon.

Then, she left without feeling guilty.

Almost every day, she did the same;

Coming to the park, seeing and talking to me

Although I never paid attention to everything she talked.

After that, she never appeared again.

I didn’t care about her.

Perhaps, she had gone back to her country.

It was very usual for the traveler to come and go.

I was alone with the Alone again

Feeling glad for none disturbed my loneliness.

Henceforth, I spilled my coffee which made me remember her.

I liked being alone, with the Alone once before;

But now, I am fitful since I miss her laughter

That I could hear every time in the park.

                                                                                                 -March 27, 2014-