Lonely Rock

That lonely rock just looks at me.
How sad it has no destiny.
It lies there amid that dirt,
While out the door each day I spirt,
Into traffic, trouble... tears
As hours dissolve into years.
I fight and fume and formulate.
Alas, at times who'd hesitate
To run away from flock and clock,
And nestle by that lonely rock!

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!