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August 25, 2015



Sweet solitude, that is all mine

to do with as I please.

My escape route to sanity,

when pressure starts to squeeze.


Sweet solitude, my heaven on earth;

a place where I can breathe.

My answer to disorganised chaos,

when fists clench and brain doth seethe.


Sweet solitude, that lass I know;

my companionable reflection,

who in the mirror, nods back at me,

and points me in the right direction.


Sweet solitude, my last chance saloon,

when all around agree,

no hope is there of sanity,

ever coming from me.


Sweet solitude, my dearest friend,

and many friends I know.

But she has stayed the longest,

whilst the others come and go.


Sweet solitude, my shadowlands;

my alter ego too,

when of myself I finally tire,

my pseudonym stays true.


Sweet solitude, my rescuer,

who pulls me from the floor,

when into old ways I do revert,

through that inevitable trap door.


Sweet solitude, my stabiliser;

my steadying support.

My life-line through all madness,

that I do tend to court.


Sweet solitude, my ivory tower;

no bigger picture do I need,

though others dispute that ferociously;

‘Just get a life’ they plead.


Sweet solitude, my resting place,

where I came from at the start.

And when this cycle is complete,

tis where, no more, will beat my heart.









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