Sorrow.

Wrote this on 11/29/12 for school. It doesn't rhyme. Still, its a poem about understanding how cruel life really is.

-Sorrow-

 (Inspired by The Great Gatsby)

11.29.12

He was a middle-aged man of age 72.

Who wore sadness in his eyes.

Yet he had a triumphant business on the bay of New York.

He worked there every day even on Holidays.

From when the sun shined, till it went down.

It was all he had left to live for.

 

As he entered his car at the end of this day.

The clocked marked seven O’clock, right on the minute.

This reminded him of the seven year anniversary of his wife’s passing .

(He felt an acute pain to his heart)

There was no use in trying to forget the only day he could never forget.

I mean, how could he?

That single day had caused a tumultuous disturbance to his whole being .

It had replaced his optimistic heart with an ice cold box.

 

As he was driving home.

The lonesome road filled his head with thoughts.

He didn’t understand people anymore.

He was lost, even a stranger to himself.

Yet, he didn’t really mind .

He knew, with every passing minute, he was closer to her.

 

Although, he accepted that very clearly.

He didn’t fancy thinking about it.

He decided to turn the radio on.

The different instruments from the orchestra started playing.

Soon, Christmas music filled his car.

(Again, he felt an acute pain to his heart)

Maybe music was not the best solution to shut out the voices of his head.

 

On his way, he noticed something different about this night.

It could have been all the Christmas decoration on the small stores.

Or maybe he was feeling a bit spontaneous.

But he decided to stop at a restaurant.

 

When he entered he stood there, waited to be sited.

When he finally sat down, a waitress came to serve him.

In an instant he noticed her smile.

Even with all her simplicity.

Her florid cheeks reflected the color of ripe strawberries .

Her beauty was like a fresh pair of flowers that had just been pulled from the ground.

In fact, her name happened to be Daisy.

 

She attended to him in a swiftly matter, like she did to everyone else.

She reminded him of the only thing he desired to have the most (his wife).

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t stop staring at her .

But what really corrupted his heart was when he heard her laugh .

It filled his ears with the most graceful sound he had heard in countless years .

At the moment, he reminisce of the day of his weeding,

his honey moon, the weekends when they would go on vacations all around the world.

(A time when he was happy)

 

When he was done eating, he paid his bill.

On his way out he glanced at her one last time.

She looked so much like his wife.

Sounded so much like his wife.

But unfortunately was not.

He knew she was just an illusion created by his foolish daydreams.

 

This was such a bittersweet feeling to him.

(For the last time, he felt an acute pain to his heart)

This time, everything around him changed.

The busy noises from the world muted.

The bright lights from the world dimmed out.

He was quickly emerged by darkness.

He couldn’t breathe and his heart beat no longer.

He didn’t even make it to his car before collapsing to the pavement.

It was a cold night and the wind was blowing extra hard.

But that made no difference to him.

He was dead.

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[MJReed]

72 is middle aged?

It's a bit long, and it doesn't seem to rhyme much, but I'm no poet, nor am I a huge fan of poetry.

Keep it up, though.

-MJR

[Resuri]

Pff... 72 is middle age, in this time of age people are living til 100. :P
I know its long and I know it doesn't rhyme... But thanks.^^

[MJReed]

hmm...ok.
I still would consider middle aged (relative to a 100 year span) to be between 40 and 60...but it doesn't really matter, does it.
lol