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Brooding over

Updated on November 9, 2011


Despite the vigor of the world he doth dwell,

The pensive gaze and dropping head of his, that frame

His gaunt physique, and all of those foretell

His prejudice to any diversion or game.

The prolonged afternoon leads evening on

To nebulous night lit with ersatz light

Lining the many streets, the golden time gone,

He omits the fact and nothing could excite.

Astray in irresolution, unable to retire

Without coming to conclusions that he long for,

He sips his drink now and then, still in dire

Straits, perforce thinking like a permanent sore.

Thinking silently about problems, this common trait of people,

Often cause us to be woeful and dismal.




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    • Rosemay50 profile image

      Rosemary Sadler 6 years ago from Hawkes Bay - NewZealand

      Sad, a lone drinker deep in thought, despondent and in despair.

      Well written and good flow