From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years
The Cure for Loneliness
The rain on the roof makes a tinny sound
Like thousands of pins on the way to the ground.
I can not nap or work or eat
While thousands of pins may endanger my feet.
The wind whines and calls my name.
If I do sometimes answer I am not to blame.
I need to hear the sound of my own voice
Responding to my name, I have no choice.
Lonely thoughts and lonely nights
Echo in darkness and dim all the lights.
Surrounded by people the wind’s all I hear.
You are not whispering in my ear.
So alone in the midst of a crowd
I want to shout and cry out loud.
But all I seem to do is disappear
Into the background when people are near.
I suppose the cure for loneliness
Is to gather courage and befriend the friendless.
But courage fails when you are away
I’ll just talk to the wind for one more day.
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