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Inside the dark room
Sat a man
Who only smiled on Saturdays.
Today was Sunday, perhaps the saddest day
After the joy and partying
The sadness had returned to surround him.

He sits at a bare table, his head slung low
Hovering as if only kept up by an invisible string
Tangled around his neck.
On occasion he glances round,
Imagining he has heard a sound,
Quickly checks behind him
Only to be confronted by the shimmer of darkness,
Glinting image of loneliness.

But soon again it will be Saturday
And he can smile once again as the stings tighten
And his old skin snaps into youth.
For those 24 hours he will once more be complete.
The sun will breathe life
Into solemn bones,
Reminding them of what it is for.

Remember my friend, despite all you are, all we are, the universe will tick on, long past our departure.

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The following comments are for "Saturday Man."
by Thea Veol

Sad really! I vaguely remember Sundays like this in my often mis-spent youth. I like this one - somewhere in there is the making of a cool blues tune.

( Posted by: jonpenny [Member] On: September 16, 2010 )

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