I live alone

A poem about what we say v what we mean

“I live alone.”
It’s what I tell others,
But it’s not really true…

I live with a cuddly ginger fur ball,
He curls his warmth around my legs or snuggles on my chest when I’m sad,
He wails at me to get up and feed him when I’m feeling lazy
He listens when I get home as I tell him about my day.

I live within a terrace of neighbours,
A friendly face, a wave, sometimes a chat, as we come and go,
People to call on when something within the house breaks down,
Or simply the indirect companionship of banged doors, footsteps and muffled voices through walls.

I live with the wonderful words in my head,
Characters from stories that I write and those that swirl around not yet contained on a page,
The books on the shelf that shout at me with advice, ideas and inspiration.
The constant inner voice that narrates even my most mundane day.

I like amongst the company of nature,
The sun that greets me with a cheery good morning when I rise,
The stars that wait for me to whisper good night to them,
And between, the day filled with the chatter of wind through trees and the chorus of birds.

“Do you live alone?” the world asks.
And I always say yes,
But it’s not true.

© Leona Marie, 2023