Colin F. Jones

IT’S HARD

‘Tis hard for those who suffer their own pain,
To offer the friendship you might want to claim,
For many do recede into themselves,
And exist in silence on old dusty shelves.
‘Tis not from lack of friendship that they hide,
‘Tis due to tiredness and the hurt inside.
How long it seems I’ve sat here on my own,
Staring at the beckoning telephone,
But for some sad reason I cannot make the call,
Each time I try sad memories I recall,
That going back would maybe make things worse,
Though I try to turn my thinking in reverse…
Those times have gone… I just want to be alone,
Just with myself without a telephone.