Is it cry of a lonely bird,
heard on a quiet rainy day.
Or is it that silent ticking of a clock,
unheard otherwise.
Or may be it is those serene nights,
when we don't speak; or else,
the magic spell of the night will be broken.
Or it is the rising sun,
in all its grandeur, making everything sublime in its presence,
that I watch in awe standing on my terrace.
Or is it the those lazy afternoons,
when I can hear the leaves rustle...
Or is it that strange feeling,
that creeps into me, when I am,
in the middle of a crowd...
and suddenly I'm detached from it.
Smiling foolishly at people unheard,
inside wanting to run away...
May be loneliness is me turning into myself,
me finally getting up and...
walking away from that crowd.
3 comments:
Loneliness is knowing no one is thinking of you.
@torn pocket: it is knowing that about whom you are thinking, they are not exactly thinking about you.
@lost soul: It doesn't really matter much who you are thinking of. When you know there is no one thinking of you ,you know you are lonely.
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