Alfred Lord Tennyson Was A Wise Old Man

Alfred Lord Tennyson was a wise old man.

Running into loneliness..

Eyes with a vacant look,

Memories of you and a voice screaming, 'I will hold you no more'

echoes of that thought within..

I run into loneliness,

displaced, decanted, drifting on the mist within the trees,

I run into loneliness

my confidence vanished with the closing of a door,

I run into loneliness,

Years go bye, people change and so do I,

many a familiar face and place seem like a dream,

they are displaced, drifting and forgotten in the early morning mist upon the trees,

yet you still remain,

whispers in the dark and shimmers in the night,

a dusty old portrait of a lady hung within the gallery of my mind.

© Sean Sheridan.