Anatomy of Loneliness
It is strange,
the things you assume when you befriend loneliness.
You hear the whisper of trees
and assume that the mist is their breath.
Sometimes when the dew sparkles from the green bed,
you assume the sky has fallen.
Near the noisy stream
you paint strong currents on the surface with your eyes
you assume there was a quarrel and an exodus.
The garden in your backyard with its pastel colours
you assume it is a painting,
you assume that the rains won't wash it away.
When each day begins
you assume you will be lonely
but then you are not.
You have your assumptions.