Shadow bars thrown out from the stars,
Sprinkler rains on live music framed,
And dried mildew stains with no shame,
And each breath the same kind of stale,
Sticky cold, on this heart like mold.
Four walls, lights out through the whole hall,
No noises, just muffled voices,
Crisp drawn air out of sun yet clear,
Dewdrops, taste buds, mist-green plumb-laced,
White wall laid nature made today.
And I'm just me, nothing to see,
Alone in fear, nothing to hear,
Under a spell, nothing to smell,
Feeling erased, nothing to taste,
A soul to heal, nothing to feel.
It's not very merry, it's weary and dreary,
But what a gift: solitary.