(Poem 145 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
There’s a lonely monster I know by the name of Stan.
He wanders the desert to avoid the face of man.
We ran into one another once on a camping trip.
I was with a tour group until I gave them the slip.
I came across Stan warming by a lovely little fire.
I assured him I wasn’t scared; he called me a liar.
With his eyes downcast, he told me about his past.
Then I told him about mine, though he never asked.
We agreed we were both the biggest lost cases,
not good with people and ashamed of our faces.
I remember the stars were quite beautiful that night.
Then Stan stood and stretched to his full height.
I was shocked and speechless, to say the least.
He was a hulking form, a most magnificent beast.
I apologized for staring, and he chuckled a bit
and declared me his long-lost mutual hypocrite.
See, together we each judged ourselves the worst,
as though from birth we both had been cursed,
though he had told me to give myself a break,
and I had preached that he deserved a fair shake.
When I eventually said I had to rejoin my group,
he patted my head, though he had to stoop.
We agreed to meet at this same spot once a year
to sit around the fire and drink some beer.
I’ve never told anyone of this once-a-year plan,
but I visit a lonely monster by the name of Stan.
@Home Studio – 145th poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 