When I was young…

I was never lonely

I had books and my mom…

Many, many friends…

Now I'm older, the connections I had are,

Grown thin and worn by time,

By my own will, by circumstance…

Yet, I am neither lonely.

Nor do I have to seek out companionship.

Books, my room, my possessions,

All these are more than enough to keep

Heaviness away.

I feel they are alive

They have a presence…

No longer mere objects but…

My friends.

In my room sometimes,

I almost believe they are alive

And they surround me and shelter me,

With benevolence towards me,

Their clumsy owner…