The leaves that rustle in the breeze.
It’s just the stirring of the trees.
To bend and sway at nature’s pleas.
And sing the song of time alone.
The sound of paper as I turn.
The book I’ve read, of life to learn.
My eyes are heavy, this rest I’ve earned.
And comfort in my time alone.
I speak, my friend, but you’re not there.
So many things we used to share.
I sit beside that empty chair.
And curse my hated time alone.
The soul is restless, thoughts fill my head.
Of troubling times, so full of dread.
But there is peace; a prayer is said.
So strong becomes the time alone.
I hear a voice, it’s someone new.
Talk with me and stay a few.
I’ll be your friend, you’ll be mine, too.
And share our precious time alone.
The leaves will fall, no sound to make.
As winter brings the heart to ache.
But know that spring will soon awake.
The gift of no more time alone.
Copyright joseph e bird, 2016