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Bēo For.....

I have no bees,

to pollinate .....,

my flowers.

Nor, to share 

with their gossip.

Don’t speak to me,

of love. 

For I’m wizened,

and have grown old.

It’s dark, and lonely, and.....

I’m feeling, nothing inside.

I’m looking for love.

My soul is torn, 

and holds, no sand.

Just a hollow shell.

Of a lonely, man.

Don’t dream of me, 

it won’t go well. 

For it never does.

Your words, 

sought me out,

from the darkness. 

And as you whispered.....

They reached the depths, 

beyond, my mortal soul. 

So

Until that day

No matter how much rain that falls

If a lonely old man has a drink

That lasts all night

It’s merely that

Its the last resort.

He’s 

Trying beat,

the coming of 

the dawn.