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The Lonely Lady

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I see her walking down the street.
Her head down,
Her arms crossed,
She looks sad, lost, confused.
Is she searching for answers?
or is she just walking?

I ask myself, why?
I know, I do not need to know.
but then,
I ask myself, again, why?

Am I not, too, looking for answers?
Am I not, also, trying to find something?
or am I just walking around,
around and around in my head?

I, too, am lonely
If I must search inside.
I, too, am guarded
If I walk with helping hands inward.

Am I sad like she looks?
Am I lost like she looks?
Am I confused like she looks?

It seems that I am.
If I must ask myself, Am I Lonely,
Then I am.

I look out again.
The lady walked away.
She has taught me something.

The questions I ask have answers.

I am not sad.
I am not lost.
I am not confused.

I have what I need.
I have myself.
She is the Lonely lady.
I am not.



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