Loneliness by Maura Cahill


             is my oldest friend.

When I was five years old I found her, laughing,


in the very furthest corner

of the pink-blue- yellow-green alphabet carpet.

On my sixth birthday she took my hand,

Led me on every adventure.

               A thousand pages, magic and her.

Bittersweet simplicity she was,

Whispering secrets of the big wide yawning world:

Alluring ache.

I played with loneliness every day.


She was my confidante as the world turned on its axis about me.

You are special, she said,

Your tears are diamonds.

You are strange and you are free.

She who

Introduced me to the moon

              -goosebumps on my skin in the cold night air

and the ghostly crystalline stars calling,       reaching,       crying out

to their sisters in my eyes.

She lingered in the hallways,

Wrapped around me like a blanket when the sun

Expired in bursts of golden light-

and I loved her for it.

Still she follows, waits, caresses my cheek when the leaves start to fall

Murmuring, Remember me old friend?

And I do.

I do.