Midnight.
Feeling lonely on a
Saturday night.
I’ll take a quick walk,
Around the block.
On the church steps, a young man,
Looking lonely,
With his head in his hands.
Is he looking for God?
Why don’t I open my mouth?
Why’s he so sad?
Too scared to find out.
Past the house of a young love.
The memories,
And how we’ve grown up.
Nearly four years ago,
On this sidewalk,
He’d walk me home,
Hand in hand, deep in talk.
A big house, with a wrap-around porch,
Young couple.
Lit up by a cigarette torch.
How long will it last?
Does love ever die?
When will their present be past?
Does true love die?
A man, relaxing on a porch chair.
Escaping,
Life in his house, an awkward stare.
“Hey, ” leaves my mouth.
I know that feeling,
“Hello, ” in response.
Strangers understanding.
Midnight
Feeling not so lonely on a
Saturday night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem