The Bliss Of Solitude I Poem By Percival, 16, Kolkata

The bliss of solitude

I wonder why, The lone fox sits,

Alone on a rocky hill, On a crescented night.

Looking up often, her eyes, ever vibrant With the luminosity of hope.

I wonder why, Frost seeks out,

To travel on a frosty night. The snow, lean and lank, Falling softly on its bed of fluff, And he with his horse,

Ride on to answer, An appointment.

I wonder why, Harry Potter sleeps,

Alone in his four-poster bed, Ron by his side,

Hedwig hunting for fresh meal

Out in the cold, wintry night.

I wonder why,

Hazel Grace Lancaster,

Sits in her room, accompanied, Solely by her lung machine.

And Augustus Waters, sleeps, Happy and still, in his bed of wood, Smoking an unsmoked cigarette.

Perhaps as Wordsworth had said, “A bliss of solitude”,

Is sometimes all what, A man (or woman), May ever need.

I often wonder why, This world so full of life, Full of love,

Full of spirit,

Says, that all it ever needs, Is a goodnight kiss, which,

A mother so lovingly implant

On her little baby’s forehead, As she puts out,

The lights for the day.

By – Percival Cygnus Altaria

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