I cherish
time in solitude. . .

When I don’t have it
my outlook gets
a little bearish,
I must be extra tough
and brave
since life’s ways feel hard,
folks (and me)
seem awful rude.

I cherish, too,
the time I spend
in company–

Without that,
What sense is there
in donning e’er
my favorite hat,
or in passing
these long scores of time
I have at bat,
in this bone-and-fleshy
lump called me?

How then,
do I, most skilled and deft
triangulate these three–
sweet solitude,
scary-wary company
and me?

To solve this
does my current grasp
elude. . .

So, in good time,
if I persist
in trying sundry
paths to take,
among nearby,
and far outlying,
I hope eventually
the puzzle fits,
while my living body
still exists,

and I pray,
that when it does,
some sunny day,
it will truly feel great. . .

for that will be,
alone, or with,
one very pretty
thing to see.

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