The Man on the Park Bench

The sad silence,

The sad wanting to speak,

The sad inability to pull words out

To meet the meanings,

The sad knowing, in all you could say
No one would hear you anyway …

The only comfort:

That everyone’s alone,

And no one has a clue,

And nothing makes sense

If not misconstrued …

When we hold to each other

Because we don’t know what else to do

We learn all that we will know,

For there’s nothing in anything else

That can teach us.