I'm alone, alone to me

not in the way the masses see

but rather like a bird in a tree

I fly long and far, here and there

but stay stationary in my motion

much like a tiny fish in the ocean

The phone sometimes rings

The mail arrives from near and far

and some come in their cars

but they still don't understand

I feel alone in the lonely confinement of my mind

I read, I write, I paint, I type

but still remain silently afloat

in my solitary boat

I wish I could explain

how it is to fly

all alone in a plane

It's like planting a hundred daisies

and watching them in the summer sun

only to note the arrival of one

Sometimes I dream

a quiet dream

that this sleep will take

and allow me

never to awake