Part of a crowd, yet sitting parted,
Encircled by joy and laughs, crossed by silence.
A bug in a world of buzzing pairs,
Bugged by their pleasing talks I’ll never share.

Alone, not by choice but by design,
Watching them connect with ease, darn so fine.
Blessed with a heart that wants to belong,
Cursed with a life that plays a different song.

Miss the good old days.