Lonely’s Shadow
by Odin Roark

In the quiet small hours of morning,
In and out of street lamp pools,
Darkness walks hand in hand with lonely.

Bearing no pretense, remorse, or regret,
Its shadow finds desolate park benches,
Sleepy subway platforms
The secluded lover’s pier.

Lonely hears the vacuous sounds,
Those hidden evening scars finding voice,
Echoing down avenues and streets,
Seeking solace,
Identity,
Resolve.

She slips in beside such wanderings,
Knowing her presence is but a symptom,
A cause and effect residual floating aimlessly,
Pain’s essence still back in an empty apartment,
Hotel room,
Or friendless bar.

An exiled stray
Sniffs out this unlikely companionship
Wagging its tail,
Hoping for the words, “I know. I know,”
But accepting the shadowed alliance,
This union of sorts,
Common to man and beast.

The nightly chill begins to wane,
Knowing the respite of an orange sunrise
Will round the turn and take up the baton,
Continuing fear’s chameleon relay,
Where lonely’s shadow
Is but a changing-color away.