Meena, Age 13, Tucson, AZ
Loneliness is a glass jar,
Containing one last penny
It is a moonlit beach at the dead of the night -
The sound of a wave gently lapping over smooth sand,
The soft howl of a wolf miles away.
Loneliness is a mysterious voice lingering within minds
Speaking softly to those who have lost hope
And taunting those who fear it.
Loneliness is the final hospital room on the last floor,
The sound of a bedridden patient
Dying slowly in his sleep.
Loneliness is when the party is over
The sight of a room full of sagging streamers and airless balloons
But no one left to celebrate.