there are so many words
never spoken to one who has listened
so intently to what he thinks
he has got a good idea but
by the time it is verbalized
it's weeks later and the sun is down
waiting for dawn to arrive
sits in the dark with no smoke
time alone and he would be a hermit
if he didn't have to work
48 hours a week
way to spend the time
dribbles away and some days
he feels so old and others
young and full of life
or something no one wants to talk about
those who see him daily
may not give a shit but
one far from here
feels the same...
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