Only the Lonely

In a hotel room a man sits alone.

Head in hands, crying quietly to himself.

Kisses blown down the wire to the love of his life,

after bed time stories read over the phone.

 

He thinks about a drink, almost heads to the bar,

instead, takes out his laptop, works in the near dark.

Heading for promotion, career’s upward arc,

and he won’t have to travel so near and far.

 

(c) Chris Johnson 2016

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