Lonesome

She has learned to live

With her loneliness

As the days go on

Snuggled and warm,

In a cozy bed,

She has never dreamt

To fly.

Sometimes the echo

Of her own voice

Startles her;

As though she were

Speaking to some spirit.

She has got used

To her shadow

As the light dims;

And curious enough

She has never learnt

To cry.