Thursday, April 13, 2017

On Living Solo (a terza rima sonnet)

I wonder why I rarely feel alone.
My mind seems able to regale itself
Beyond connecting on the telephone

Or Internet; I rarely raid a shelf
For books to keep me occupied. TV
Can buffer, but for sustenance my Self

Depends upon its own resources to be
Happy in its now. Others tell me they
Require love and contact: liberty

To speak with others on demand. My way
May seem like isolation next to this –
But so far living solo lets me play

The games I need to play. What do I miss?
Perhaps one day I’ll know. But now it’s bliss.


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