Alone and Far Away

Another depressing poem by Vince Weaver

Walking in the quiet snow,
I ponder things that have been.
And walk and walk too and fro
Wondering if I'll ever win.

February, curse'd month,
Mocking my date of birth.
Dreary with winter weather,
Dreary through lack of mirth.

The source of my happiness, ever vague
Has gone and got confusing.
And my mind jumps to conclusions
About the fear of losing.

So lonely I walk,  waiting out the day
Because I am alone, and she, far away.

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