The loneliness of unchosen solitude
Concrete where once there was meadow
Only my time can I explain and even that
Is by no means certain in the storytelling
My mother called her time alone contentment
After a hard, physically tough, and demanding life
I hear the wind through the grasses
I am certain of the leaves falling from their trees
You ask me if I am ok on my own all day
I wonder, for it is all I can, how then will it be for you
